Primeval Series 6, Episodes 3-4 - Time After Time
by qjay
Summary: The third and fourth stories in my "sixth series" comprise a two-part (double length) episode. In the first part, Connor's new time machine strands Abby and Emily in the past, while Matt deals with a dangerous new teammate. In the second part, "I, Claudia," Connor and Becker mount a rescue mission, while Jenny Lewis is summoned back to the short-handed ARC...
1. 603 Teaser

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

_SPOILERS: For the entire show through Series 5._

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was originally written in script format; I'm in the process of converting it to prose. It is part of my attempt to write a series of stories to stand in for a sixth series of the UK Primeval. I haven't seen the New World spin-off yet, so these stories may contradict it. Also, I'm not British. Please excuse any inconsistencies of slang or terminology that would not be used in the UK._

* * *

**Previously on Primeval, Series 6:**

Matt Anderson's future double appeared, first to himself and then to James Lester, warning that some dire fate awaited the world, and that the latter would be partly to blame for not stopping secret research being done into anomalies in a town called Southfield. He urged Lester to bring in someone new, who would be capable of halting the threat posed by the project.

At Matt's urging, Connor Temple began experimenting with time-travel without an anomaly, hoping to devise a method of sending Matt back into the future. Connor also married Abby Maitland during the Southfield crisis, but they kept this secret to avoid ruining the wedding it has taken them more than a year to plan.

Back at the ARC, Jess Parker and Captain Becker began dating, and Emily Merchant found herself drawn to the science-fiction films she's been watching at Connor and Abby's, becoming Connor's "geek apprentice"...

* * *

**Teaser**

**California, North America  
Late Pleistocene Epoch**

Between eleven and thirteen thousand years ago, just after a species of aggressive primate called _Homo sapiens_ pushed its way into North America, en route to the top of the food chain, and just before the widespread extinction of the more impressive mega-fauna of the era, while glaciers still dominated what would become America's Pacific Northwest, and while the stretch of Southern California that would one day become the inspiration for dozens of Beach Boys songs and the source of thousands of bad films was still a dry, sprawling prehistoric vista dotted with craggy hills and bubbling tar pits, a herd of Columbian mammoths marched through a valley of sand and dust, en route to the greener pastures beyond.

There was nothing particularly special about these mammoths; at the time, they ranged from the South American land that gave them their name into California, and served little purpose save as a movable feast for the sabre-toothed cats and other large predators who prowled similar ground. Rather, there was nothing _inherently_ special about these mammoths, but on this particular sunny morning, on a date that is lost to history, one of them was about to _become_ special. It was about to become the first mammoth ever seen alive by modern humans. It was about to cause a panic on a British motorway, and eventually to save the life of a man named James Lester when he was set upon by future predators. In a very real sense, then, this mammoth was about to play a part in saving the world, thousands of years after its natural lifespan would have ended.

If you asked Lester, or any of the dozens of humans who encountered the mammoth in the future, they would probably have said it was completely coincidental that it happened to be this particular mammoth, on this particular day, that travelled through the glowing anomaly to the 21st Century and thereby became so important to history.

But they would be wrong. Because, you see, this mammoth was observed. It was tracked from a distance by a man on a ledge overlooking the valley, a man in suspiciously modern khaki clothing, bearing an even more suspiciously modern set of binoculars. This man had been tasked to retrieve a mammoth, or rather to ensure a mammoth would appear at a particular future time and date. Thanks to meticulous planning, and to his employers' comprehensive understanding of the workings of anomalies (which might have been the most suspicious thing of all), this man was about to fulfil his contract.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a ruddy face, cool blue eyes, and brown hair tending about halfway toward ginger. A slouch hat of light brown felt shaded his eyes, and had to be tilted back to facilitate the binoculars. After a long moment of observing the mammoths, he sat back on his haunches, removed the hat, and fanned himself with it. He had been out in the elements, tracking these animals, for a long time, and even he- who was well-used to spending lengthy stretches on safari, all over the world and in most of the better-known time periods- began to long for modern conveniences. A shower, a cool drink...

Business first. He reached down at his side and picked up a remote control. He'd always had a knack with technology, really with anything touching on science, but in this case he needed simple and direct, with no chance of a mistake, and so the control had only two buttons: One to trigger the explosives he'd laid along the mammoths' path, and another to abort the explosion, should something go wrong. Everything he did came with an abort switch, always; he always straddled the line between cautious man and daredevil, a trait he'd inherited from his career-military father.

He waited for the bulk of the herd to pass through the target area, until only a single straggler remained. Then he pressed the first button, triggering a series of squibs such as would be used to produce special effects in this area thirteen millennia hence. They detonated in front of the straggling mammoth, cutting it off from the herd with a series of loud _pops!_ and disorienting sparks. It reared up and trumpeted, while its companions panicked. That was step one.

Step two was steering the mammoth in the right direction. It thundered off into the valley, away from its companions, directly toward a glowing anomaly, which had appeared right on the predicted schedule. The mammoth tried to angle away from this strange sight, but every time it tried to turn, another set of squibs went off, frightening it back on course. Eventually there was nothing for it to do but charge through the anomaly- and right onto a 21st Century motorway.

The man put down his remote control and reclaimed his binoculars: The herd was gone. The contract had been fulfilled. Now he only had to clear up the evidence, in case Professor Cutter and his team of misfits from the ARC should happen to wander back through the anomaly and find the remains of the squibs. Low odds, that, but he hadn't gotten as far as he had by leaving loose ends.

He stood and pushed his slouch hat down over his eyes. He had to hurry; he wanted to be back in the present in time to see the looks on their faces. A job like this was just business, but every now and then, he allowed himself a moment of fun, and that would be great fun indeed...

* * *

**M25 Motorway, Outside London  
Five Years Ago**

If Abigail Maitland had ever thought of her job as fun, that ended when a highly-evolved bat from the future killed her old boss and two others, almost a year earlier. But every now and then, something came along that reminded her why she'd been so keen to join up with the Home Office, and later the ARC: It might be Rex's antics, the chance to see a long-extinct mammoth, or even one of Connor's jokes. On this particular day, it was the chance to prove her cleverness while driving a_ really cool_ yellow sports car she'd commandeered to save the day. Granted, the tankard of elephant urine in the back seat did rather spoil the image, but Abby was a zoo-keeper, after all. Anyone who had a problem with elephant urine probably wasn't someone she cared to impress. She gunned the engine and laughed, heading toward Cutter and Connor and the rampaging mammoth she intended to corral...

There's a long story that goes with this, but the short version is: It worked brilliantly. Well, semi-brilliantly. The mammoth was captured, casualties were kept to a minimum, and save for Stephen Hart's mysterious absence, everything went all right for the team. Abby not only kept her good mood, she became even more giddy at the thought of studying a mammoth up-close.

She was still feeling impish when she walked the site of the capture with Connor Temple at her side, so she looked for an opportunity to have a bit of fun with him; the best part of having him for a flat-mate was the chance to watch him pretend to hold his own in an argument. The amusement value thereof made up for a lot of his less sterling qualities.

"You lured it in with... female elephant urine?" he was saying, gesturing as though he was making a really good point. "You mean that actually worked?"

"'Course," Abby smirked. "A male mammoth's still a male. You're all slaves to biology."

"Excuse me, Abby!" he said, mock-offended. "Not _all_ of us are like that!"

She sighed. "Connor, in order to be controlled by a woman, you'd have to be able to _get_ a woman."

"Here, now! I just broke up with a very beautiful woman! You can't have forgotten, because you haven't stopped nagging me about it!"

That soured Abby's mood a bit; not only did it remind her Rex was missing, it reminded her of Caroline, never her favourite subject. Sometimes the game of taunting Connor backfired.

"Mad lizard thieves don't count," she murmured. "I mean someone normal! Well, not too normal. She would be dating _you_."

"Ouch! Abby, ouch! D'you have to go right for me self-esteem?"

"I wouldn't worry," Abby said, her smile returning. "You've got extra."

They approached a small crowd of people, still milling around and talking about the very large elephant- Abby almost giggled to think they actually believed that- on the motorway. She kept walking; stunned civilians were just part of the job to her by now.

"Honestly," she said, "whoever does end up with you has her work cut out for her, poor woman."

"All right," Connor said. "I know you're angry about Rex, but I feel like that was one too far."

On reflection, it was. Abby was simply annoyed he'd accidentally won a round; she didn't really want to offend Connor. He was silly sometimes, but other times she thought he was..._ nearly_... interesting.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Feel better if I let you drive the sports car?"

Connor peered over his shoulder at the sleek, gorgeous vehicle. "It's... not actually yours, is it?"

""Course not. Why do you think I offered?"

"Cool," Connor said, and they both burst out laughing.

A lot of things happened after that, world-shattering things that drove the whole exchange from Abby's mind. In particular, it would be a very long time before she remembered seeing the tall man in khakis and a slouch hat, watching them from the back of the crowd with an odd sort of smile...

* * *

**London  
This Morning**

In the new flat she shared with the same old bloke, Abby Maitland- or perhaps it was Abby Temple, she hadn't yet gotten that sorted in her mind- checked her hair and make-up in the mirror over the sink. She hadn't the faintest idea why she kept flashing back on the conversation about the mammoth, except perhaps that her brain was trying to distract her from her upcoming appointment, which she found genuinely terrifying. She barely even looked like herself, all_ formal_ and... and businesslike!

"I can't believe I have to do this," she sighed, partly to Connor- whom she could see buttoning his shirt in the bedroom beyond the door- but mostly to the Universe at large.

"You said that already!" Connor called, a helpful reminder.

"_So_ nervous," Abby said. "Why do I have to give a presentation to _people_? This only concerns the creatures in the menagerie; why can't I just deal with them?"

"You said that, too," Connor said. "The answer you're looking for is still: Because creatures can't talk."

Abby turned away from the mirror in frustration. "Connor, I'm really low on patience this morning, all right? Don't start."

"You said that, too." Finished with the shirt, he poked his head in the door. "Abby, relax. It'll be fine."

She checked the mirror one more time- nothing had changed- and pushed past Connor into the bedroom.

"It's just... _everything_ depends on today! The board of directors at Prospero still has to sign off on all major expenditures, and these guys are really tough to impress! Burton already turned down my request to expand the menagerie once. If they reject it again, who knows how long it'll take to get another hearing? These creatures have been living in a glorified parking garage for over two years! It's cruel!"

She grabbed a folder off the bedside table and began leafing through it. She'd carefully organised all the data she needed for her presentation, so of course it would all be in the expected place...

...except for the one report she _really_ needed. She started rifling drawers for it in a panic, until Connor noticed it on a nearby shelf and handed it to her. She snatched it away and mock-glared at him until every trace of amusement departed his face.

"Shouldn't Lester be doing this?" Connor asked.

"You'd think," Abby grumbled. "Lester's been... weird lately. He's hardly come out of his office for weeks."

"I noticed." Connor smiled. "I like to think he's got an X-Box in there. He might be secretly addicted to _Call of Duty_."

He was going for the laugh; Abby rolled her eyes at him instead. "You're impossible."

Connor shrugged and started to turn aside, but Abby remembered something else and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Connor... you've got the scientific data I asked for, yeah? When you present it, the board will ask your opinion... and I need this to go well."

"Yup. Don't worry. All under control." Abby moved in closer, snuggling against Connor, who very quickly became distracted. "I'll, um... I'll do my bit, and... and... what was I saying?"

Abby craned her neck to whisper to him, her lips nearly grazing his ear: "That you want your wife to be _really _happy?"

"Um... right. Exactly. And maybe if all goes well, we could... celebrate later?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Abby said. Then she backed away, unable to hide the smug smile any longer. "Too easy. You are _so_ like that."

"Eh?" Connor said, still in a daze. "Like what?"

"Slave to biology. Remember that bit?"

He grimaced. "Oh... right. Didn't you also say no normal woman could fancy me?"

"Yeah," Abby agreed, a twinkle in her eye. "But I never said I was normal..."

Ready now to face the world- or as ready as she was going to be- Abby turned and made a straight line toward the front door, with Connor trailing behind her. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob.

"Here goes nothing..."

"Look," Connor said, gathering himself. "You're right on the merits. You know this stuff backward. You're gonna be brilliant."

He clearly wanted to say more, but held back. Abby didn't have time to keep him in suspense.

"Well, go ahead and say it."

Connor feigned ignorance. "Eh? Say what?"

"You know what. You've nearly said it six times. Go ahead and get it out of your system."

Connor grinned. "You don't mind?"

"Nah," Abby said. "Say it for luck."

"All right, then." Connor took a deep breath. "Good luck, Mrs. Temple."

Abby stared at the wedding ring on her finger, the gorgeous old ring given them for the ceremony in Southfield. It actually came from a kind old woman named Mrs. Ridley, but somehow Abby felt it was the perfect symbol of her relationship with Connor: unexpected, a bit out of place, yet somehow a perfect fit.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and ran out quickly, so he wouldn't see her grinning all the way to work.

Maybe that was why she kept thinking about the mammoth thing this morning; maybe it just reminded her how well things had worked out, how lucky they'd been. She didn't even think of a strange man in a slouch hat, although she did get a shiver down her spine when she saw a man like that staring at her on the pavement outside...


	2. 603 Act One

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act One**

As distressed as Abby was in the morning, she probably didn't look half as glum as Captain Becker did that evening, sitting at a corner table in a pub with Jess Parker and Emily Merchant, sipping a bottle of beer and generally being annoyed with the world.

"I can't believe I have to do this."

"Perhaps it won't be so bad..." Emily suggested.

"Not bad? I'm throwing a bachelor party for a man with absolutely no imagination! All he wants to do is watch _Battlestar Galactica_! Not even a stripper..."

"Seriously," Jess said, "be more disappointed about that."

Becker glanced at her and seemed to realize he was treading close to danger. "You know what I mean! It's just not my area, this stuff. I have nothing in common with Connor's friends!"

"They like dinosaurs," Jess reminded him. "You catch dinosaurs for a living..."

"Which means they'll drive me mad with a million questions, most of which I can't answer because the details are classified!" Becker took another sip of beer. "Mark me, this is going to be hell..."

"They'll probably have cake," Jess said.

"Hell plus cake, then."

Emily stared down at her own drink for a moment, overcoming some private hesitation. "If you like, I could do it..."

"You?" Becker snorted. "On a stag weekend?"

"You know what those are, yes?" Jess said. "We explained that part?"

"Yes, I'm from the past, not stupid." Emily shrugged. "But if it's just watching _Battlestar Galactica _in this case, I can do that. I've already seen most of the series, through the part with the Final Five Cylons. And please don't spoil me, because I really..." She trailed off, realizing the others were staring at her. "What?"

"You've absorbed all this very quickly..." Jess said.

"Oh, I've been watching the show in marathons!" Emily said. "Which reminds me, I must get my own DVD player. When they're married, Connor and Abby might not want me at their flat until three in the morning."

"I'm sure they love that _now_..." Jess murmured.

"It's actually been quite nice. We've seen_ Blake's 7_ and _Torchwood_, and next week Connor's introducing me to something called a Matrix..."

Jess looked at Becker. Becker looked at Jess. Jess looked away politely.

"You're weird," Becker said, less politely.

"Really weird," Jess admitted, now that it was out in the open. "What makes a woman from the 19th Century crave stories about the far future?"

Emily sipped her drink and looked around the pub. She might have been considering the matter for the first time, but Becker suspected she knew the answer all along. She was afraid it would sound silly.

"I suppose it's because all my friends are from the future," she said. "My whole life is science fiction. I live it, every day. I've seen so many remarkable things I never could have imagined. I can't help wondering what's next."

That being depressingly rational, Becker had no good answer for it. He checked his watch. "Where are the others? I thought this was some sort of celebration."

"I'm not sure what's happened to Abby and Connor," Jess said. "I think Matt's held up at work. I heard him and Lester arguing all day. Perhaps they haven't sorted it out yet."

"Can't be that difficult," Emily said. "They're both reasonable men, except for Lester."

"And Matt," Becker added.

Jess sipped at her drink and frowned. "I suppose when you put it that way, it might take a while..."

* * *

Matt Anderson's ears might have been burning. Even as the team's coordinator said those words, he was in James Lester's office, angrily slapping a file down on the desk while Lester, on the other side of the desk, stared at him- cold, but no less angry than Matt felt himself.

"I don't care what you've arranged! It's my team and I said no!"

Lester shrugged. "Actually, it's my team and you mind it at my sufferance, rather like an itinerant shepherd."

"It's taken me two years to put my mark on this place!" Matt said. "To win Abby and Connor's trust, convince Becker I know what I'm doing..."

"Yes, that did take an awfully long time," Lester said. "Were you doing something wrong?"

"Personnel changes are subject to my approval!"

"To your input, but not your consent," Lester corrected him. "In this case, I'm afraid it's not up for discussion."

Matt took a long step away from the desk, pacing the office in lieu of taking a step toward the desk and punching Lester in the face. "But we don't_ need _this fellow! The team's doing fine... and something about his CV makes me nervous..."

"Does it? Well, let's see." Lester sat down behind his desk and made a show of paging through the file. "Special forces training. MI6. Long experience hunting big game across three continents..."

"Abby's going to_ love _that, by the way..."

"Regardless, his qualifications could hardly be more perfect. What is your precise objection?"

"_That_!" Matt said. "You know who else had perfect qualifications? Me. If you'll remember, I was engaged in a massive deception!"

Lester arched an eyebrow. "If you keep bringing up all your most annoying points, you'll never win an argument."

Matt spread his hands, trying to be reasonable despite all evidence it was hopeless. "Look, suppose he's perfect. Suppose he's got Becker's training and Abby's experience with animals. I've already got _the original Becker and Abby,_ so why do I need a man I don't trust?"

"It's only temporary," the ARC director said. "Mr. Newman is a specialist, and I have certain security concerns..."

"Becker's chief of security."

"These concerns are beyond Becker's clearance level."

"Then perhaps you could share them with_ me_!"

"Not at this time," Lester said, unblinking.

Matt turned away and tossed up his hands with a disgusted growl. He searched his mind for arguments and came up with one he should have known was trouble from the start: "Six people is too many on the lead team. I prefer a small, cohesive unit."

"Yes," Lester said. "Emily will be reassigned to a support capacity for the next few months. She'll have time to thoroughly familiarize herself with modern technology- training she would have had at the beginning, if not for the New Dawn crisis."

"She's doing fine," Matt objected.

It did even less good the second time. Lester shook his head. "You may argue to reinstate her when Mr. Newman leaves in a few months. If you want my support for that argument, I strongly suggest you don't make yourself a problem. Are we clear, Matt?"

Matt stared at the other man, wondering what he'd ever done to so anger Lester. He didn't get along well with his boss- hardly anybody did- but they'd never had a serious problem before. Yet Lester's whole demeanour was different now; he wasn't just being haughty and sarcastic in the midst of an argument. He'd sought this fight, and seemed to take particular relish in reminding Matt who was in charge...

The problem was, Matt did know who was in charge, and he didn't see a way around it at the moment.

"Yeah," he sighed. "We're clear."

"Excellent!" Lester said, as pleasant as he ever was. "He'll be here in the morning. Oh... before he arrives, you might wish to hide that little science project you've been working on with Connor."

Matt stood astonished, trying to work out how Lester knew about that without alerting the other man to his surprise. It would have been more effective if his mouth wasn't hanging open.

"I don't know what you mean..." he murmured.

Lester stood up suddenly and leaned across his desk. Whatever had altered his attitude, he wasn't playing; he seemed genuinely furious. Matt only wished he understood why.

"In case you were unaware, Matt, you have already exceeded your quota of massive deceptions." Lester's voice was barely a whisper. He seemed spent, as though he carried some great, invisible weight on his shoulders. "Whatever you may think of me, please don't think I'm stupid."

"I don't," Matt said.

A little stunned by the whole conversation, he backed away, turned, and walked out of the office. He felt he could have set the whole thing right if he'd only understood what was going on, but Lester wasn't even listening. It was like having half a conversation...

* * *

The other half of the conversation didn't take place until after he left; although, strangely enough, it did take place between James Lester and Matt Anderson. The haggard future version of Matt appeared at Lester's elbow, staring at the place where he'd been, only moments ago.

"That was excellent, James. I actually recall being slightly intimidated."

Lester barely glanced at him. "Do go bother someone else, won't you, Lord Canterville?"

"Don't worry, I intend to," the time-traveller said. "My work here isn't done yet."

Before Lester could inquire as to the ominous nature of those words, Future-Matt was gone. It was just as well. Lester didn't imagine he would have said anything helpful... or even intelligible to anyone stuck in a single time-fame.

He sat at his desk simmering, angry at both versions of Matt although he knew that was at least half-irrational. He thought of his father's advice in moments of crisis; alas, in the weeks since Future-Matt's first visit, he'd drained every drop of spirits he kept in the office, and a couple of bottles he'd brought in especially for the occasion. He'd used all that liquid inspiration in formulating the outline of his present plan.

It was not, to be sure, a good plan. It depended on his winning what amounted to a game of chess against an opponent who literally knew his moves before he made them. He foresaw only a slim chance of success... but it was a chance, and the only chance he saw to save both the world and his colleagues at the ARC, Matt Anderson not least of all.

If he had to drive them all to hate him in order to accomplish his plan, Lester thought it was worth that. As he saw it, it wasn't a very long trip to begin with...

* * *

Connor Temple didn't say a word to his wife on the walk to the pub. He could see by Abby's body language that she was dejected; she hugged herself and looked at the ground as she walked, as though she trudged through an invisible snowstorm. He would have known the answer she got from the board at a single glance. He just wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right... but Abby insisted it wasn't a big deal, wasn't worth cancelling their plans, and one didn't get anywhere with Abby by trying to get her to talk when she wasn't ready. He'd learned that much over the years, at least.

Abby almost bypassed the front door of the pub before turning on her heel and squaring her shoulders, like a woman awaiting execution.

"Well, let's get it over with."

"Yup," Connor said. He reached out to open the door, then ventured, "Hey. It's not over. We'll try again."

"Yeah, maybe," she said. "In another two years..."

Before opening the door, Connor pointed at her ring finger. "Don't forget about that."

"Right," Abby said. With visible reluctance, she removed the ring and slipped in into her pocket.

Then it was time to stop blocking the door. They manoeuvred through the pub on autopilot and found Becker, Jess, and Emily at a corner table. Connor recognised it as the same table where he and Matt had a long talk about facing the future a couple of months ago. Since then, he'd made tremendous progress scientifically... but he wondered if that was what the talk had really been about.

Emily saw them first and waved them over. "There you are! We've been waiting."

"Sorry we're late," Connor said.

"So, come on," Jess said. "Tell us: What's the big news?"

The way she said that, Connor almost thought she knew about the marriage, but no- of course, she meant a different kind of proposal. Abby steeled herself before making the necessary reply.

"It's not happening. Didn't go well."

"I don't understand- that can't be right!" Jess seemed far more stunned than the others. When everyone noticed this, the team coordinator studied the tabletop, blushing. "I saw your proposal marked approved in the database. I only hack people when I'm concerned about them..."

Abby didn't care. As Connor pulled out a chair, she said, "Oh, they approved it, all right- at a fraction of the funding I requested. I asked for a state-of-the-art zoo; they gave me enough to put in a skylight."

Emily shrugged. "It's better than nothing..."

"It's really not. They basically ruled out_ ever_ doing anything substantial to help the creatures."

The mood having turned grim, Becker signalled a server for another round. Connor didn't even sip his. He was busy thinking about something: Maybe the perfect wedding present, the greatest gift he could ever give to Abby. Happiness for her beloved creatures. The only trouble was, it was a bit hard to explain...

Jess offered, "Perhaps Lester can help you wear them down."

"If he ever decides to care again."

Connor took a deep breath. "There might be another way..."

Abby frowned at him. "What other way? What do you mean?"

"Well..." Now Connor took a long swallow of beer, such a big swallow that he nearly choked. This bought him a few seconds to think, but he didn't come up with anything, so he forged ahead. "Even the zoo would be a stopgap measure, right? What you really want is to send them all home?"

"'Course," Abby said, though he detected a certain hesitation; maybe she was thinking about Rex. "We still don't understand the anomalies well enough. The only person who could make them appear and disappear was Helen."

Of course, that wasn't strictly true: Connor had done it, once. That was what made this part so difficult. But this was different! He was following Matt's orders this time, for the sake of putting _right_ the harm that had been done by people exploiting anomalies. He wasn't chasing after Helen Cutter's mad genius any more. He was ahead of her. He could do things properly, without making the same mistakes. He could make even bigger ones. With that thought, Connor felt himself losing his nerve, so he decided he'd better speak quickly.

"What if we didn't need an anomaly?" he asked.

* * *

In the depths of the ARC, in Connor's darkened lab, Matt Anderson was also thinking through the moral implications of their work. He'd seen his own future self, advising him to return to the future- something Matt didn't exactly know how to do without a convenient anomaly. He'd told himself to talk to Connor, and why would one talk to Connor if one didn't need a technical miracle (or the answer to a _Star Trek_ trivia question)? Worst of all, he'd warned himself that_ she was in danger_, a woman whose survival was apparently vital for the future of the world, and whom he feared in his bones might be Emily, or one of his other friends at the ARC. He'd heard all this direct from the future, direct from _himself_.

But what if he was wrong?

Matt considered all this for a few moments, but unlike Connor, he was highly unlikely to lose his nerve. He'd devoted his entire life to preserving the timeline, and if he believed the timeline was in danger, he was prepared to take any risk that would preserve it- instantly and without regret. That was his whole reason for living. If he sometimes wished life might have some other purpose, well, that was an idle wish, and not worth worrying about too much.

He needed to go back. Connor could send him there. That was the best calculation he could make at the moment, and he'd be damned if he'd let the whole thing fall into the hands of some mercenary "specialist" brought in by Lester.

He logged into the system, tapped a few keys, and found himself confronted by a new screen:

**PROJECT MORLOCK LOGIN: PASSWORD?**

Only Matt and Connor had the password for this tightly guarded project. Even Jess couldn't get into it, or so Connor insisted with more than a touch of bravado. It was more important that the people behind Southfield couldn't get in, and Connor swore that was impossible. Matt just about believed him.

Matt entered his password, gaining access to the guts of Connor's project: a series of progressively more complex charts, tables, and computations. Matt's eyes glazed over when he looked at it, and he was a man from the future specifically trained to deal with time paradoxes. Sometimes he feared Professor Cutter had created a monster in Connor Temple, and the only way to really keep the world safe was to remove Connor from it. A couple of factors kept Matt from considering that option: Simple humanity, and the fact that Connor was also the best chance of _saving_ the world from less benevolent people only a little less clever than him.

Matt plugged a flash drive into the laptop and copied the Morlock files, then navigated to another screen, hovering over the option that said "Delete All?"

Before he could decide whether that was really a good idea, alarms started blaring in the ARC. Matt pocketed the flash drive, closed down Project Morlock, and navigated to a status screen. He already knew what he'd find: That wasn't the usual tone that signalled an anomaly. Rather, it meant:

**INTRUDER DETECTED – MENAGERIE FLOOR  
POWER GRID OFFLINE, CELLS 1A-5E**

"That's all of them," Matt murmured, already picturing the chaos that would result if the contents of the menagerie were allowed to roam free. "Where's the lockdown?"

When automatic lockdown didn't come after a few seconds, he knew he'd have to take stronger action. He headed down to the menagerie himself, grabbing a fully loaded EMD pistol en route. For once, he rather hoped there was trouble. He'd relish a good brawl tonight...

* * *

In the ARC's menagerie, the captive Columbian Mammoth eyed with suspicion the same tall human in the slouch hat who had set it on its course toward destiny, so many centuries ago. Newman liked to think it recognised him, though of course that was absurd. The beast had simply learned a healthy fear of humans. In Newman's book, that put it ahead of a great many people he'd encountered.

In time, of course, the mammoth overcame its fear and managed a tentative step toward freedom. Sometimes that was all it took.

Around the mammoth, around Newman himself, chaos had its moment. A pair of rodent-like Diictodons played at Newman's feet, oblivious to the fact they were being stalked by a Smilodon: the majestic sabre-toothed cat perched atop its former cage and licked its lips over two tiny appetizers. Before it could pounce, however, a flying lizard flitted through its field of vision. The Smilodon batted at it, missed, and fell off its perch.

_Graceful, lad. Graceful_, Newman thought, and laughed to see all the fun: Dracorex, Ornithomimus, Kaprosuchus... all unleashed and about to have a row for bragging rights in the ARC's menagerie.

"Hey!" someone cried, interrupting Newman's sport.

The mercenary turned with a sigh. He recognised the newcomer: Matt Anderson, the ARC's field leader, on whom he'd collected extensive files. Decent strategic planner, solid in a fight, armed with an unknown degree of foreknowledge from his... unorthodox upbringing. Weakness: An over-abundance of compassion and a tendency to myopically focus on his goal- drummed into him by his father. This left him vulnerable to being taken off guard by multiple lines of simultaneous attack.

Newman thought he was really going to enjoy this.

"Well, hello there," he said as he faced off with Matt. His accent identified him as a Scotsman, his tone as a man to be taken seriously. "I've been waiting for you."

"Who the hell are you?"

"Oh," he said, "my name's Christopher Newman. I'm actually part of your team. I know it's customary to test the newcomer, but I've always liked it the other way 'round."

Matt looked past Newman, at the brawling creatures in the menagerie. "Are you mad? You've compromised the whole facility!"

"Yeah, how about that?" Newman said. "Now, show me what you've got..."

Matt pulled an EMD pistol. Predictable. Newman darted in past his guard and knocked the weapon away. Matt used his proximity to hit him with an elbow beneath the chin-_ Not bad, didn't expect that_, Newman thought as he tasted blood. When he backed off, Matt threw a right cross. That was more like it; easily blocked.

Matt rushed him again, but Newman was ready this time, wrestled with him, and threw him to the ground. Something fell out of the team leader's pocket and skidded across the floor, stopping when it hit the toe of Newman's boot.

He bent down to retrieve it: A flash drive.

"I'll just hold onto this, sunshine," he told Matt. "Looks important."

Matt started to rise, eager to have another go at him, but Neman located his EMD not far from the flash drive, took two long steps, and retrieved it. He aimed the weapon, and Matt Anderson froze. Of course, the Kaprosuchus smacking its jaws just about a metre from his head didn't seem to indicate freezing was such a winning strategy, either.

The beast advanced on Matt with a growl, and Newman smiled...


	3. 603 Act Two

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Two**

It should be noted that Matt Anderson once drove a truck containing a rip in reality into an even bigger rip in reality, briefly becoming the eye of a hurricane in time and space that threatened to wipe out the human race at least, and possibly the entirety of the known Universe. So lying on the floor between a carnivore and an armed lunatic wasn't even close to the worse situation in which he'd ever found himself. It was, however, one he definitely planned to avoid in future...

It was Newman's smile that really decided Matt on his course of action. Under normal circumstances, his first priority would have been escaping Kaprosuchus; even if Newman shot him with an EMD at that distance and on that setting, it probably wouldn't be fatal. But to get away from Kaprosuchus, he'd have to turn and run, and the thought of running away from this bastard and his smug smile was too much for Matt to bear; so he'd deal with Newman first, and take his chances with the prehistoric crocodile.

Matt returned the smile and raised his hands as if in surrender; as soon as Newman's aim wavered, his boot shot out and caught the mercenary's ankle, knocking him off-balance. Kaprosuchus snapped at him, but Matt barely rolled away, sprang to his feet, and barrelled into Newman, knocking him against the wall and his pilfered flash drive to the floor. Matt bent to retrieve the drive, but had to dive to avoid a swipe of the tail from their recently-acquired Magyrosaur. Fortunately, the same swipe of the sauropod's tail caught Kaprosuchus head-on, knocking one of the menagerie's most dangerous residents out of the brawl temporarily. His competitors were more than happy to pick up the slack: A ring of predators surrounded humans and herbivores both, hissing and snarling at potential prey and at each other. Only fear of the mammoth's bulk and tusks had kept them from ripping anything to shreds so far, and now they'd come in for the kill...

Newman didn't seem to care. He hauled Matt to his feet and slammed him against the lead-lined wall of the nearest cell. Matt doubled him over with a gut punch and pushed him away. The flash drive was still on the floor somewhere...

"There should be an automatic lockdown!" Matt hissed. "What have you done?"

Newman wiped blood off his lip and grinned. "I hate interruptions..."

He threw a roundhouse punch, caught Matt's jaw and staggered him, then made a grab for the flash drive himself. He got knocked down by the Dracorex as it fled a screeching raptor. He staggered to his feet, but before he'd fully recovered, Matt grabbed him and pounded his skull against the cell wall.

"You idiot! Look around you! These creatures are going to kill each other, and then us! And then-"

"You're a really nervous little man, aren't you?"

Newman landed an elbow in Matt's midsection, turned, and snapped his head back with a backhanded blow. While Matt was staggered, Newman dove to the ground and gathered up the flash drive... but found himself face-to-face with the recovered Kaprosuchus, which roared and charged him.

Matt figured it couldn't happen to a nicer fellow; unfortunately, he didn't think Lester would accept "He was an idiot" as a proper excuse for letting his hand-picked security "expert" perish on the first day. His EMD pistol was on the ground a little distance away. Matt scrambled for it, got his face kicked by one of the diictodons as it quite sensibly tried to tunnel through the floor, but managed to turn and fire several bolts, stunning the crocodile.

Newman gave Matt a smile and a jaunty salute, pocketed the flash drive, and turned for the door. Matt tackled him before he got there and landed on top of him, with his hands around the other's throat. Even this didn't seem to be of much concern to Newman.

Matt cursed under his breath. "If you're MI6, you'll have an exit strategy. At least, you better had! What is it?"

Newman just smiled. Matt saw the raptor from the corner of his eye, preparing to charge; he throttled the mercenary and tried again.

"_What is it_?"

One of Newman's hands was locked around Matt's wrist. The free one reached into his jacket and pulled out a metal orb the size of a billiard ball. It reminded Matt of a bulked-up version of the small flash bombs they'd used against plague victims in Southfield. Before he could even register what a bad sign that was...

"EMD grenade," Newman said. "At this range, it should knock out every creature in this room. Or kill us. Not really certain."

"Give me that!"

Matt reached for the grenade, but Newman smiled and tossed it high into the air. It was blinking- he'd armed the thing! Matt made a desperate grab, but missed it.

"Smile, sunshine..."

_I'll get Lester for this_, Matt thought, and then there was a blinding flash...

* * *

Abby couldn't remember the last time she'd been so angry. Well, actually she could; it had a lot to do with Connor filling Rex's bowl with breakfast cereal, and the lizard getting sick all over the old flat for forty-eight hours thereafter. But this was definitely as bad as anything in the last few years. After everything they'd gone through with New Dawn, more secrets!

Abby knew she had a temper, and sometimes watched the others for cues as to whether she might be flying off the handle too easily. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Becker and Emily were staring at Connor with the same shocked, slightly betrayed look Abby wore herself, while Jess looked away, apparently unable to watch.

It was Becker who broke the silence. "What do you mean? How could you send the creatures back without an anomaly? Connor, what have you done?"

"Well..." Connor took a deep breath and turned to Abby, a couple of heartbeats too late. "Please don't get upset."

"Oh, believe me, we are_ way_ past-"

"It's not what you think! I've been working on something with Matt! We're... adapting the technique I used to send the triceratops into the past a while back..."

"Adapting it for what?" Abby demanded. "You mean... time travel? Real time travel?"

"Anywhere, anytime," Connor said. "Well, in theory."

"And that doesn't strike you as the slightest bit mental? What do you think will happen if-"

Abby trailed off; Jess seemed to want back into the conversation now, and she was smiling. She'd been hiding her face because she was excited! Abby began to wonder if she was the only sane one...

"I knew it! This is Project Morlock, yes? I knew it would be something like that!" When everybody stared at Jess a second time, she looked away again. "I also hack when I'm bored..."

"Morlock," Emily said. "Like the book you gave me. H.G. Wells."

"Right," Connor said. "I suppose it should have been Project Eloi- they were more the good guys- but Morlock sounds _so_ much cooler."

"Connor!" Abby snapped. "Were you not going to tell me this?"

"No, I was! I really was!" He held up his hands, gesturing for peace. "As soon as we were sure..."

"And now you're sure?" Abby said. "New Dawn wasn't enough for you? Now you want to take the next step? Enable anybody, anywhere to trample all over time?"

"That's not what it's for!"

"Then what is it for?" Becker demanded. "What's the point of doing it?"

"It's... something Matt needs! Look, it's really his story to tell!" Connor looked around at them, gathering his thoughts. "I only agreed to set things right. With my modified dating calculator, I can pinpoint the exact time the creatures left and send them back within a fortnight! New Dawn was about interfering with the anomalies; with this, that will never again be an issue! No more Claudia Browns! Something comes through, we just send it home. It's like the ultimate defence for the timeline!"

"I'm sure that's your purpose," Abby said. "Suppose others aren't so generous?"

"Suppose they're not?" Emily murmured, thoughtful. "Back in Southfield, before she died, Mrs. Evans implied her colleagues were ahead of us in understanding the anomalies. Suppose they're near to making this discovery themselves?"

Becker made a face. "If that's true, having a time device of our own might be our only protection..."

"So that's how it is?" Abby demanded. "We're in some sort of arms race? Forever seeking newer and better ways to interfere with nature? Sounds like Cutter's worst nightmare to me."

"That's why we're gonna be more careful this time," Connor said. "I want you to be my conscience. If you ever fear we're going down the New Dawn path, say the word and I'll destroy it. I promise, Abby."

Abby frowned at her husband. He seemed very sincere. When he was about to do something reckless, he always did. That was how he managed to be so brilliant and so thick simultaneously. But he had been honest with her this time- relatively speaking- and that was a beginning. She sighed, shook her head, but didn't say anything more against the idea. Yet.

"Look, we're getting far ahead of ourselves," Connor said. " It's still in the early stages. All I've sent back so far is an apple!"

Abby frowned. "And now you want to try it on the creatures? Absolutely not! Connor, you're not going to experiment on them!"

"But it's _safe_. It's basically the same thing we did to the trike, and it worked perfectly!"

"As far as you know!"

"What would you prefer, then?" Connor glared at her, getting upset himself. "Leave them in a dark cage for the rest of their lives? Abby, this could be our chance to send them home!"

Abby glared back, and so they were deadlocked. Becker and Emily and Jess fidgeted and looked generally awkward; if they didn't know this was Abby and Connor's first real, wedded fight, they certainly knew it was something they wanted no part of.

Since she couldn't sit there glaring all night, Abby grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. "All, right. Come on."

"Come on... where?" Connor said.

"We're going to see Matt. You say he's the one to talk to about this. Let's talk."

"What, now?"

"_Right _now," Abby said. "You want to avoid another New Dawn? The first step is to have everything out in the open, immediately."

Connor stared at her; he seemed to be hoping she wasn't serious. Since she was, perfectly, he sighed and pushed back his chair.

Becker yawned and stretched. "Couldn't tell us about it tomorrow, could you? Not that all this isn't fascinating, but it's been a long day, and this party was sort of..."

"Crap," Jess supplied.

"Yeah, exactly."

Abby shrugged. She rather doubted Becker would have on her side of the argument, anyway. She turned to go with Connor- and heard another chair move away from the table.

"I'll come, if you don't mind," Emily said. "With these two dating, I feel rather in the way."

_You mean in the 'six-hour _Battlestar Galactica_ marathon sense_? Abby thought. But she could really only fight one battle at a time, so she chose the one that didn't involve the fate of the world.

"Sorry, what?" Becker said as Emily moved away from the table. "We're not dating! We've only... attended some of the same events at similar times..."

"Please, you're finishing each other's sentences."

"We are so-" said Jess.

"-NOT doing that!" said Becker.

They blinked at each other in surprise. Emily laughed as she fell into step with the others.

"My mistake, clearly. Come on; let's go sort this out."

Connor was already on his way to the door; Emily was only a step behind. Abby remained where she was, feeling deeply unhappy with the world, and carefully wiped the frown from her face before following. This business of arguing with Connor wasn't what it used to be: His arguments had improved, her patience had worn thin, and the threat of apocalypse took all the fun out of it. She should have known the day was doomed from the moment she'd left her building to find that scruffy fellow in the slouch hat leering at her...

* * *

The first thing Matt saw when he regained consciousness was that damned mercenary, leaning against the wall in the ARC's infirmary, leering at him. There was just something about that smirk that made him want to slap it off the other's face. He supposed to ought to feel grateful to be alive, despite everything...

Then he saw James Lester standing next to Newman, and he forgot why.

Newman nodded to the ARC's director. "There you are, James. All present and accounted for."

"Some of us are more accountable than others..." Matt groaned as he sat up. He wasn't sure which of them to glower at first. "Was this all some sort of game, then?"

"My apologies, Matt," Lester said. He did seem sincere. "It was necessary."

"What for?"

"To test you," Newman said. "Your internal safeguards are a joke, starting with that poor excuse for a tinderbox you call a menagerie. Free the creatures and the place goes to hell. Your whole installation could be compromised by a good operative in less than five minutes."

"You couldn't have filed a report on that?" Matt asked.

"I could have done," Newman said, "But then I wouldn't have this."

He held up the flash drive; when Matt saw it, he decided which of them to be furious with first. He hopped off the cot where they'd left him and headed straight for Lester.

"That's why you told me to call up the files! You were baiting the trap!"

Lester shrugged. "I've had bad experiences with unauthorized experiments floating around the ARC. I should think you'd understand that."

"I do," Matt said. "What I don't understand is why you've stopped trusting me."

A smile touched Lester's lips, but his eyes remained very cold. "Perhaps you will someday."

Before Matt could puzzle that out, the annoying one cleared his throat.

"Save the soap opera drama for another time, ladies," Newman said. "Your science project is just another security risk to me. I want it shut down."

"Done," said Lester.

"Now, wait just a minute-" said Matt.

But Lester had already turned on his heel, and he walked out the door without a word. While Matt stood there seething, Newman thumped him on the back.

"By the way, it's a real pleasure to be working with you."

_Slap that grin off his face,_ Matt thought, _and then beat him to death. I don't ask for much..._

* * *

The thing Connor Temple couldn't work out was how such a promising morning had taken so many turns for the catastrophic. He and Abby had gone from blissful newly-weds to bitter, veteran time warriors in a matter of hours. Since they actually were both those things, Connor wouldn't have minded, except that such transformations tended to end with him sleeping on the sofa.

At least there was stimulating intellectual conversation to occupy him on the drive back to the ARC:

"The scope of it was just gorgeous," Emily was saying as they entered the observation room overlooking the menagerie. "You people from the future take these 'special effects' for granted, but to me it's like... being able to make a record of your imagination and conjure it into being for others!"

"If you liked that, you should see the Director's Cut."

"Now, I have to ask: What's the truth about Deckard? Is he a replicant?"

Connor laughed as he flipped the light switch. "Oh, that's the real question, isn't it?"

Abby was still cross; she thought he didn't see her frowning as she paced across the room to the observation window- where her whole manner was instantly altered.

"Guys!" she said. "Something's wrong down there!"

"What's the matter?" Emily said.

"There's been some sort of struggle... some of the creatures look... _NO_!"

She turned and ran out the door. Connor followed, calling her name. In moments, they were down in the menagerie itself, and Connor began to see what had so upset his wife. There had been a struggle in the menagerie. The creatures were back in their pens- sort of- but highly agitated. The Dracorex kept charging the walls and would not settle down. The Magyarosaur had been clawed all along its flank- by a raptor, Connor guessed- and the wound had been clumsily tended. The Kaprosuchus shook its head and stumbled around its cell, walking off an EMD hangover. And even the Diictodons...

"Sid!" Connor yelped.

He ran to their pen and pushed through the door as soon as it registered his security code. Their male Diictodon was curled up in a ball, softly cooing that distress call of theirs, while his playmate Nancy nuzzled him. When he saw Connor, he tried to scurry away, but he favored one of his front paws and stumbled. Connor picked him up and held him; the poor creature was still shaking with terror.

Abby ran a quick examination. "The wound's superficial; I think he just got in the way of something. He's more frightened than anything else. Most of them are frightened."

"They must have gotten loose somehow," Emily said.

Connor shook his head. "That couldn't happen without triggering a lockdown."

"That's a good point," said a voice from the door: Matt Anderson, looking as tired and ragged as Connor had ever seen him. Emily ran to him and took his arm; he studiously looked away from her, as though he felt ashamed to be comforted. "We got lucky this time; nothing was killed, though not for lack of trying."

"None of the doors have been forced," Abby said. "Someone_ did_ this. Someone let them out. Why?"

"Long story. We have bigger problems."

"There's no bigger problem than this," Abby said, already charging for the door. "I saw a light on earlier. Lester still in his office?"

Matt shook his head. "He won't talk to you, Abby."

"I know he's been out of sorts, but he's got to listen. Maybe I can-"

Matt caught her arm as she reached for the door. "Abby, he authorized it!"

Connor vividly recalled the look on Abby's face the first time they'd faced a creature together, a Mosasaur in a reservoir which nearly had them for a snack. She'd seemed _almost_ as stunned that day as she did now, staring at Matt; almost, but not quite.

"Why would he do that? Lester- he understood. He_ likes_ the mammoth. He wouldn't-"

"Lester's playing a different game now," Matt said. "I don't know why. Connor, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Matt," he said, swallowing hard. "They know about the time travel."

Matt's eyes flashed. "I specifically asked you to keep that between us."

"Yeah, you did. Decided not to do that." Before the other man could object, Connor forged ahead: "You were the one who said I had to start making my own calls. This is one. Abby needed help and I didn't have her back last time. I'm not gonna make that mistake again.

"Look, we can use her, too. We both get too focused on the goal. She sees whether it's right or wrong, and we need that. If you want to court-martial me, or... whatever... go ahead."

Matt stared at him for a long moment, then seemed to accept this and turned to Abby. "What sort of help? Help against what?"

"This. The start of this. The people who run this place now don't care about the creatures at all. They're just _expenditures_, and I'm sick of it. You can see for yourself it's not working." Abby gestured at the distressed animals all around them, then turned to Connor. "You were right. I thought we could protect them, but when even_ Lester_... no. This can't happen again. I won't let it. If you can send them home, you should."

Matt looked from one of them to the other. "You want to use Project Morlock to return the creatures to their times? I can't authorise that."

"Matt, hear them out," Emily said. "It might be for the best..."

"You don't understand. I can't tell you to download all the information about Morlock, to keep it safe. I can't tell you to start moving the creatures out- now, tonight, before we're subject to another 'test.' I can't tell you to use my codes when possible, so that I take the blame. I can't say I'll run interference with Lester until you're done. I can't directly authorise_ any _of that."

"Right." Connor frowned. "So what you're saying..."

Abby sighed. "Just nod, Connor."

Connor nodded, and Matt visibly relaxed. Emily brushed his bruised and battered face with her hand.

"Matt, what's going on? What happened to you?"

Matt took her hand in his, gave it a gentle squeeze, then pushed her away. "You'll understand when you meet our new friend. Now, go on. You don't have much time."

Connor was looking at Abby, who kept wincing and looking back at her beloved creatures. He could _feel_ her hoping they weren't making a terrible mistake. Come to that, Connor hoped the same thing. But Matt was right, so he stirred.

"We need the equipment from my lab..."

Abby turned and marched out the door. Connor ran to catch up with her, and did so a few metres down the corridor. He could already hear Emily coming up behind them, so he wanted to talk quickly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's fine," she murmured. Then she stopped. "Look, I said you were right. You win. Just... promise me it's safe for them. Tell me you're _sure_."

"As sure as I can be," Connor said. Then he put an arm around her and pulled her close. Abby buried her head against his shoulder. "I didn't want to be right this way."

"I know..."

Emily appeared in the corridor behind them, and they separated. Just as well; there really was a lot to do. Nothing much, just the impossible. But they did that sort of thing in the ARC every day...

* * *

Becker pulled his truck up to the pavement in front of Jess Parker's building and put it in park. He walked around the cab and opened her door for her, walking her to her front door as he'd done several times before. He thought he carried it off well; but he opened and closed the doors a bit more roughly than usual, and Jess noticed. When they got to the door, she stopped.

"All right," she said. "What's the matter?"

"What? Nothing..."

Jess rolled her eyes. "You've been upset ever since Emily's joke. You needn't worry; we don't really finish each other's sentences."

"Maybe not, but the others are starting to-"

"Notice? I should think so." When Becker stared at her for an extra beat, Jess cracked a smile. "Sorry; couldn't resist."

Becker glanced at her door, then back at his truck. "It's just that we do work together. It's not quite professional. There'll be gossip and all."

"Probably," Jess said. "Oh! You want to hear something really good? It's about Abby and Connor. She sent me a bridesmaid's dress the other day. I'm starting to think they're more than friends..."

Becker groaned. "I'm being serious, Jess!"

"So am I. No one minds them. Why should we be any different?"

"Well... there are a_ lot_ of things about those two that don't quite fit with the way the ARC is run today. They're both civilians, for one thing!" Jess looked thoroughly unimpressed. Becker had to admit it was a pretty thin argument. He took her hands. "All I'm saying is, maybe we should slow down..."

"Maybe," Jess said. "On the other hand, we've known each other over two years and you've never been past that door. I'm not sure slower is actually possible, so... do you want to come up? I could put the kettle on, and-"

"Jess," Becker said. He wished she wasn't staring at him; he really liked her eyes. He took a long look at her door, let himself wish for just a moment- and then, as ever, did the responsible thing. "I don't think so. Not just yet."

"All right." Jess smiled, a little sadly. "Just for my information, that was 'not yet' and not 'never,' right?"

"You tell me," Becker said. He leaned down, tilted her chin up to meet his, and kissed her.

It took him a long time to pull away- and more effort than he was entirely comfortable with. He hadn't had a kiss like that in far too long. But finally they parted, a little breathless.

"Good night," he said, and turned from the door.

He didn't hear Jess go through it; she was watching him walk away. Becker rather wished she wouldn't, as it would removed the temptation to return and sweep her off her feet. Why did he always have to be so cautious, anyway? Jess was right about one thing; their colleagues at the ARC did reckless things all the time. Why shouldn't he just turn around and...?

The door opened and closed behind him. Becker shook his head. It was probably for the best. Probably.

He grimaced as he climbed into his truck. So many different emotions tumbled around his mind, he felt like a silly schoolboy. Regret, joy, apprehension... he couldn't sort them all, which made him even more anxious. Becker preferred his emotions properly categorized.

But there was nothing to be done for it at the moment, so he slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition. He turned to check the passenger's-side mirror...

And found Matt Anderson riding shotgun. At least, he looked like Matt. There was something strange about him, haunted...

"What the hell, Matt? You startled me." Becker frowned. "Where did you come from?"

"Hello, Becker," the other said. His tone was grave, as if they hadn't met in years. "We need to talk._.."_


	4. 603 Act Three

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Three**

The final test run of Project Morlock went perfectly. Connor Temple sent another intrepid apple where no fruit had gone before- back and forth to the Permian Era, with full tracking of the anomaly-simulating tachyon wave and a complete temporal resonance image of the target area. Basically, Connor had everything in place that he needed to send living creatures into the past, monitor them within a limited range, and recall them from that same zone. He even found some marks on the returned apple that looked suspiciously like the teeth of one of Rex's long-lost mates...

He revised the final calculations, downloaded them to a flash drive of his own, and wiped the hard drive. He could hardly believe it had come to this. The one thing Cutter always feared was the secrets of the ARC being co-opted by the military; Helen's belief that such interference would mean the end of the world had ultimately gotten Connor's mentor killed. If he had to give his own life to prevent another such disaster, Connor would do so willingly. Well, not precisely willingly, but grudgingly. All right, kicking and screaming. But he'd do it.

He passed a couple of Becker's soldiers in the corridor. The men knew Connor's face and tolerated him, even if they did remind him of the football players who used to stuff him into his locker back in school. Tonight, however, they knew something was happening, and they knew it was unusual for Connor to be scurrying back and forth to his lab at such a late hour. Connor figured he could pass them one more time, perhaps, before they got suspicious and called Lester. He thought it best to speed this covert action along, so he loaded himself down with the last of the equipment they needed, including the heavy base unit. Where was a tough guy like Becker when you needed something hauled, anyway?

He returned to the menagerie to find Abby and Emily already setting up the dishes for the temporal scan- the same equipment they'd used on the triceratops not long ago, re-purposed to a more glorious fate. He also found them with a visitor he did not expect; a small, green lizard perched on Abby's shoulder.

"Rex!" he exclaimed when he'd closed the door. He frowned at Abby. "D'you think it's a good idea to have him outside his cell?"

"Lockdown's not working, so why not?" That didn't really answer the question, and she knew it. "Connor, he was terrified! It's just for a little while..."

Connor sighed. Rex really did look skittish, as well he might. But he suspected that wasn't Abby's only reason for wanting some quality time with her favourite denizen of the menagerie. He approached her and lowered his voice so that Emily would not hear.

"No one would blame you, you know."

"Eh?" Abby feigned ignorance. "Blame me for what?"

"If you didn't send him back with the others. He's sort of the ARC's mascot, after all."

"That would be awfully selfish, wouldn't it?" Abby shook her head and sighed. "I haven't decided yet..."

"We could_ say_ we sent him back, and take him home instead. I promise not to feed him breakfast cereal." That finally got a smile out of Abby; Connor touched her shoulder. "You have some time to decide. I'm working on smoothing out the process, but at the moment it's a bit rough on- you know- the fabric of the Universe. That means no more than a few trips to the same time and place without a cooling-off period, and it means sending the most massive animals first, for maximum stability. So we start with the mammoth and work our way down."

"The mammoth," Abby said. She glanced over her shoulder at the largest pen in the menagerie; still hardly big enough for such a majestic creature. It belonged in the open spaces of its prehistoric home. Abby clearly knew that. And yet... "We've been through a lot together."

"Yeah," Connor said. "He'll be all right. I can monitor him until he leaves the target area, so if he shows any sign of distress, we'll just pull him back."

"Yeah," Abby said.

Connor didn't think he'd get anything more out of her, so he started to turn. Before he moved his hand, however, Abby took it and squeezed.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. You were trying to do the right thing, and maybe it's for the best. It just scared me a bit, you know, being on opposite sides again, and I thought..." she hesitated. "I liked what you said before, standing up to Matt for us. Made me feel really happy to be... you know..."

"Yeah?" Connor said. He drew her a bit closer.

"Yeah..."

Abby looked away, embarrassed as she always was when she tried to talk about such things. Connor leaned in close- she closed her eyes- but at the last moment, he whispered in her ear instead of going for the kiss.

"Slave to biology."

Abby's eyes snapped open. Connor winked at her and pulled away. She might have punched him if he'd remained.

"Oh, you've been waiting five years to do that, haven't you?"

"Longer!" Connor said over his shoulder, and he crossed the room to visit Emily. She was nearly done connecting the transmitter dish as per his orders, and he knelt beside her to check the work. "Yeah, that's fine. Not at all bad for a 19th Century lass."

Emily smiled. "Well, I'm no Scotty, but with clear instructions, I think I can imitate Geordi."

Connor laughed. He was chuffed to bits to have a friend who understood his sense of humour. He hadn't had that since his days with Duncan and Tom, and until now, he hadn't realized how much he missed it. He put a friendly hand around Emily's shoulder and started to tell the joke about the Pakled, the Vulcan, and the Klingon who visited _Babylon 5_...

"Oi, you two!" said Abby from across the room. "Are we ready to do this?"

"Yup!" Connor said, and sprang to his feet. He'd tell the joke later; science beckoned!

Science, and a slightly annoyed blonde. Oblivious to social niceties as he was, it did not occur to Connor until much later that snubbing one's wife for a funny joke, and then immediately flinging one's arm around another woman, was not the best prescription for marital bliss. He didn't notice at the time; he wasn't even_ thinking _of it like that! It was just one of the many little things he was destined to go over in his mind for days to come, wishing he was a little less thick. Wishing he was the sort of bloke Abby deserved, the sort who knew what to say and how to act...

But all that was for later. Time-travel was happening now! And as much as Connor knew they were doing this for the creatures' sake- as much as he now realised it wasn't the scientific advancement that would make Cutter proud of him, but understanding how to shepherd it wisely- as much as he feared at the back of his mind he might be treading dangerous ground again, he couldn't deny the thrill of trying something _really cool_ just to see if he could do it.

He hurried to the base unit, plugged in the flash drive, and signalled to the others. Emily hit the control, releasing the mammoth from its holding area, while Abby did what she could to calm it and keep it in position for Connor to scan.

"The climate's very important," Abby said as the machine worked. "England's covered by glaciers in the mammoth's time. Are you sure you can send it in space, as well?"

"Yup, not a problem," Connor said. "We're sending it back along the nexus of anomalies that lie dormant all around us. Anywhere they've ever been, we can go, too."

"You've built a new kind of train," Emily observed. "But it still needs tracks to travel on."

"Yeah, well put. Fortunately, nature's laid them everywhere." Connor frowned at the machine as it coughed up a temporal scan of the mammoth, complete with date and point of origin. "Almost ready. Setting it for the late Pleistocene... North America... Southern California, I think. Sounds nice."

"I wouldn't mind lying around the beach for a while," Abby said. "We never did get to the beach."

"I think I'd get awfully sunburned," Emily said. "The things you people call 'bathing suits' are almost like wearing nothing at all!"

"Stop, you're killing me," Connor said. He double-checked the machine and stood back. The women were staring at him. Connor imagined he could feel the whole _world_ staring at him, not to mention all the scientists who'd come before- particularly Nick Cutter.

"You two, mind the transmitters. Tell me if they start to overheat." Connor smiled at his wife. "Say goodbye to your mammoth, Abby. We're sending him home."

* * *

The more Becker looked at the fellow in the passenger's seat of his truck, the more suspicious he got. He didn't just look like Matt Anderson- he _was_ Matt, down to the last detail, the least mannerism. And yet, he wasn't quite right in certain small ways. He was like a poker player who went all-in with an apparent full house, but if you were observant, you could see he was bluffing by a dozen tells.

Becker was both observant and an excellent poker player. He _knew_ Matt wasn't quite right. He just didn't understand why.

"All right, what's this about?" he asked. "Why the cloak-and-dagger?"

"Poor Becker." Matt shook his head. "So level-headed, so loyal. I've missed you, mate. You've no idea how much."

Becker frowned. "Is this some sort of joke, then? It's not funny."

"I've tried- you have to believe me, Becker, I've tried hundreds of ways to save you. You and Connor and Abby. I don't sleep, I don't rest. I just wander and think of ways to save my team, because you'd have done the same for me." Matt's hand fell on Becker's shoulder and squeezed, the painful grip of a drowning man. "It was all on me, I was certain of that, and I tortured myself for so long..."

"Matt," Becker said, "you're not all right. You need- I don't know, a doctor or a-"

"Psychiatrist? You have no idea." The other laughed, a terribly bitter sound. His hand fell away from Becker's shoulder. "I finally realized it was hopeless. I was blaming myself for nothing. You were never going to abandon your posts. You especially would never do that."

"Damn right, I wouldn't," Becker said. "Matt, what...?"

Matt's eyes found his- they were colder than usual, even more tormented. And Matt Anderson wasn't a man known for his cheerful demeanour or his relentless optimism to begin with.

"Yeah, but Jess is different," he said. "She's not a soldier. She hasn't given her whole life to the ARC... yet. Out of all of you, maybe- _maybe_ there's a chance to save Jess."

"Matt, stop this!" Becker had to resist the urge to let his hands clench into fists. Just the thought that he'd allow something to happen... "Save her from what?"

"But not if she loves you," the other continued, as though he hadn't heard. "Then she'll never leave you, Becker. Not even at the end."

Fed up and angry, Becker grabbed the other man- and Matt grabbed him right back, seized both his shoulders, staring at him as though he could drill knowledge straight into Becker's brain. Then he said the words Becker somehow knew he'd been building up to. They came as a shock all the same.

"You have to drive her away."

"You've gone mad!" Becker said. "I won't just-"

"Becker, it's no joke. And I probably am mad, but not as much as I must seem. It's all coming due, and if you want to keep Jess safe, you have no choice. Drive her away; make her hate you. Nothing else will do. Believe me when I say, it's her only chance."

Becker shook his head, pushed the other away. "Matt, I don't understand what you're on about. Why don't you come back to the ARC with me? We'll have someone look you over."

If he wasn't as confident as usual, Matt still had the ability to look smug. "Come on. You know, or you can guess. You're a clever man, in your way. But if I must draw you a picture..."

This time Becker did make a fist, and drew it back. "Matt, stop!"

"Remember what I said, Becker." The spectre who might have been Matt Anderson grinned. "I'll see you in the future."

There was a golden glow, reminiscent of the triceratops Becker had encountered with the team a few months earlier. When it faded, Matt was gone. Becker reached out, but his hand passed through thin air.

He stared at the spot where the other man had been for a long time, remembering a time just after New Dawn, when Matt had the whole team combing the ARC for some sign of an anomaly. Nothing was found, but it always rankled Becker that he never explained what he was looking for.

Now, Becker thought he knew. But that wasn't the only answer he needed; there were several others, and he'd be damned if he was going to heed anybody's vague warnings until he got them.

* * *

Abby stood beside her mammoth, gently petting it while its trunk reached down to tousle her hair. She smiled- for a moment, she looked as young and carefree as the girl Connor had met in the Forest of Dean, all those years ago.

He remembered rambling on to her, or maybe it was Stephen, about winning the Nobel Prize for discovering anomalies. He'd had no idea what he was talking about. If he'd known what it would take to make a genuinely historic breakthrough- the risks involved, the cost to him and his friends- he probably would have dropped that newspaper with the article about the Gorgonopsid in the rubbish bin instead of bringing it to Professor Cutter. The kid he'd been back then never would have been willing to accept such responsibility.

Come to think of it, the man he was now was experiencing grave last-minute doubts. But Matt was putting himself on the line for them, so there wasn't anything to do but carry out their part of the bargain.

He cleared his throat. Abby stroked the mammoth's trunk one last time, then stepped back and crouched beside the transmitter. At her urging, Rex sailed across the room, putting himself out of the way of the experiment. Emily was ready on the other side of the mammoth pen, while Connor stood back with the base unit. He typed in a final command and looked around.

"Okay. Here's one small step for a Temple, one giant leap for... never mind, thought I had something there. It's gone now." His finger hovered over the activation switch. "For Cutter, then. I wish he could see us, finally starting to set time right."

Abby caught his eye and smiled. Connor nodded to her and pressed the button. The machine hummed for a moment...

A golden pulse reached out from the transmitters, enveloping the mammoth, while Connor watched the numbers on the base unit's display.

_Good... good... everything's working smoothly..._

Just when he was starting to relax, a warning popped up on the display- **Unauthorized Computer Access**- and alarms blared in the ARC. Connor winced, but those were Matt's responsibility. Anyway, no one would care about his breaking a few protocols as long as this worked...

"Eh... Connor..." Emily said. "It's getting awfully warm over here..."

"Here, too," Abby said. "Shut it down!"

"The numbers still look good. I don't know what's wrong."

With the alarms shrieking in his ears, Connor's fingers flew over the controls of the base unit. Everything was going right according to his model! He _couldn't_ have miscalculated so badly! Something had to be preventing it from working. Fighting panic, Connor tried the shut-down sequence, then the emergency abort. But...

He looked up suddenly. "I can't stop it."

"What?" Emily demanded.

"There's a whole subroutine here I've never seen before... it's running automatically. I'm not controlling anything!" Connor tried every trick he knew, but a steady whine built up in the base unit. The mammoth trumpeted and stamped, caught in the ever-intensifying beam. The golden effect began spreading outward, to the menagerie floor...

"Connor, it's getting out of hand here!" Abby said.

"I don't understand..." he said. "This is my own invention. I put it together myself, wrote every line of code. Nothing could interrupt my control, it's not possible!"

"If we can't shut it down, maybe we can disconnect it!" Emily said.

"Try it! Just be careful!"

While the women set to work carefully disconnecting the transmitters, Connor kept trying to track down the strangely expert undermining of his work. The damned alarms didn't make it easier to think. Even Rex kept chirping urgently in Connor's ear...

Matt Anderson entered at a run, and that didn't help his concentration either.

"What the hell is going on?"

_What do you think?_ Connor thought, be he held that back in favour of, "It's all gone wrong! Look, just keep Lester out of here a little longer! I've got to find a way to stop it..."

"Keep... Lester... what?" Matt looked from one of them to the next. "What are you doing in here?"

"Exactly what we said we were going to do!" Abby said. "Stop acting so thick!"

Matt crouched down beside Connor; he glimpsed the other's face from the corner of his eye. If he wasn't genuinely shocked, he was doing an excellent impersonation.

"This is Project Morlock... but it's not ready yet! Connor, what the hell have you done?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Matt!" said Emily. Even she sounded annoyed with him. "You all but told us to do it, less than an hour ago! You said it had to be done tonight!"

Matt caught Connor's arm, turned him until their eyes met. "I haven't been in here in the last hour."

While Connor stared at him blankly, the alarms intensified. So did the whine from the base unit, and the mammoth's panic. Suddenly there was no more time to spend on riddles. In a moment, the device would overload the ARC's power grid, and hopefully that would be the end of things. It was also be quite dangerous for anything nearby, including the mammoth.

"Abby- Emily! It's spiking! Get away from it!"

Abby glanced up. Connor could see what she was thinking: she would not allow one of the creatures to be endangered because of her recklessness. She groped around the transmitter for the last connection.

"I've almost got it disconnected. Another second..."

Emily's transmitter sparked. She leaped to her feet. "Abby, don't be foolish! Come away!"

"I'm _not_ foolish, I can-"

"Abby, come _on_!"

Emily ducked under the golden beam and grabbed Abby's shoulder, pulling her away from her transmitter just as it started melting down. They stumbled backward into the area being swallowed by the golden beam...

"_Abby_!" Connor cried, at the same time as Matt was shouting Emily's name.

The second transmitter sizzled and fried. The golden effect vanished- taking with it not just the mammoth, but Abby and Emily as well. Connor dove back to the base unit, still barely functional, and desperately tried to reboot it to scanning mode...

"What just happened?" Matt said. "Are they-"

"No!" Connor gasped. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Tracking the wave... there it is! They made it! They're fine! They're in the Pleistocene with the mammoth. All I have to do is recall them."

"Do it, then!"

"I'm still locked out... trying to bypass..." Another window popped up on the screen; Connor stared at it blankly, unable to process what he was seeing. "What the hell? There's a transposed variable here... I must have checked it ten times! It's going to-"

Rex winged his way to the ceiling in fright as the base unit went the way of its fellows, sputtering and shorting out and finally dying in a shower of sparks. Connor smelled something on fire, which turned out to be his sleeve and possibly his hair. Matt produced a fire extinguisher and put out the last, flickering blazes...

Connor slumped back, staring at a black screen. The alarms finally quieted down, but the time machine was a smouldering ruin.

"No... it can't be." He looked up at Matt. "We've lost them."

Before he could even begin to hate himself for that, much less devise a way to deal with it, more new arrivals turned up: James Lester, several ARC soldiers, and a tall man in a slouch hat whom Connor vaguely thought he recognised...

Lester brought the others to a halt, glanced all around the menagerie, then slowly turned to Connor, taking a moment to straighten his tie and build the tension.

"Well. I trust there's a good explanation for this... or is video-game night always this destructive?"

* * *

Something was shining in Abby's eyes. She thought it was the same golden glow that had briefly consumed her vision and caused the whole world to go TILT, but after a second she realised it was sunlight. By comparison to the cavernous, draughty menagerie, she was positively... warm! And she was stretched out on something hard and uneven, almost like rocky ground...

Once Abby had rolled over onto her stomach, she successfully tracked the source of that sensation: It came from ground strewn with rocks. With a groan of effort, she pushed herself to hands and knees.

"Abby...?" said a voice beside her: Emily, she thought.

"Yeah?"

"Are we alive?"

"...think so, yeah."

Heavy footfalls, not far from her head. Abby blinked a few times and realised she was staring at the legs of her favourite Columbian mammoth. It raised its trunk and trumpeted loudly; a moment later, Abby heard an answering call in the distance. The mammoth reared up and called again, then raced away at a surprisingly strong clip, anxious to make the acquaintance of its new (or possibly, its old) herd.

"Well, there he goes," Emily said. "Hopefully that wasn't the last coach home..."

Abby looked in all directions; they were in some sort of valley. In the distance, she spotted greenery, and perhaps the ocean beyond that, but nearby there was only dust and sand, rocks and mountains, and a single, thin stream winding its way around them. Abby sat up and tried to think.

"Connor said he could recall us from the target area, which should include most of this valley and the nearest cliffs. So we should... stay calm and not wander too far, and we'll be all right..."

"The machine was failing," Emily reminded her. "Suppose it's badly damaged? Suppose he can't recall us?"

Abby studied the foreboding landscape, all too familiar to her, and heaved her shoulders in a great sigh. "In that case, I'm not sure there_ is_ a way home..."

* * *

Standing in Lester's office beside Connor Temple, suffering the weight of the ARC director's glare, and of course the insufferable smirk from Newman, Matt couldn't help feeling a bit conflicted: On the one hand, he knew what must have happened: his future double must have popped into the menagerie, impersonated him, and goaded Connor and Abby into one of their impulsive flights of fancy. So in that sense, what had happened wasn't entirely Connor's fault.

On the other hand, he'd just seen Emily disappear before his eyes, and he had no idea whether it was even possible to get her back. So he couldn't say he minded seeing Lester's sarcasm put to good use, for once.

"Let me understand this," Lester said to Connor, who fidgeted beneath his glare. "You sent your fiancée back in time to the late Pleistocene. That's brilliant. Wish I'd thought of it before _my_ wedding."

Connor sighed. "We were trying to help the creatures. After what happened today, and then the breakout tonight, Abby was-"

"Abby does not give the orders in this facility, nor do you! I can't help feeling this is partly my fault, for allowing you to remain here so long without the faintest concept of discipline!"

Newman cleared his throat. "Lester, if I may..."

Matt winced, already anticipating the hired mercenary would find some way to make things worse. But at least it deflected Lester, who nodded to the new arrival.

"As stupid as Temple might have been, it's not his codes I see all over the system. The whole thing seems to have been done on the personal authority of Matt Anderson."

Lester slowly turned Matt's way. As much as he knew the whole thing had to come out, Matt couldn't help thinking Newman picked a hell of a time to start doing his job properly. He averted his eyes from Lester's, wondering how to begin.

"What about it, Matt? Did you give the order?"

Matt sighed. "Apparently... yes. Maybe it's time I explained why Connor and I began this project..."

"Oh, I'd love to hear your explanation, but I fear there might not be time in the two minutes before I sack you!" Whatever anger had been building up in Lester for weeks returned in force, then vanished just as suddenly, replaced by something like resignation. "In the interests of expediency: Your future self has been travelling back to the ARC, issuing dire warnings and generally pitting us against one another for reasons unknown."

Matt blinked at Lester. Lester stared at Matt. Connor stood back and frowned at them both.

"See, now I feel like things are turning awkward..."

* * *

Abby scouted the terrain around herself and Emily, trying to pinpoint exactly where or when they might expect danger. A bird- a huge bird, a giant condor with a wingspan twice that of any flying bird in the future- circled overhead, but it wouldn't be hunting anything their size. On the other hand, some of the tracks beside the stream looked fresh...

"Big cat," she said to Emily. "Could be _Smilodon_ or a large lion."

"They have lions in the New World?" Emily said.

"In the Pleistocene, they did: the American lion or cave lion. Bigger than any predator alive in our day."

"Abby, I'll tell you what: Until further notice, any time you mention a creature, I'll assume it's bigger and more frightening than anything in the 21st Century. That ought to save time."

Abby grunted. "We should find safer ground. That ledge up there ought to be in the target area. Come on."

They picked their way across the rocks to the nearest cliff. Abby was just about to start climbing when she kicked a rock and noticed something...

"Emily?" She crouched down and held the palm-sized rock up to the light. "Have a look at this."

Emily frowned at the rock, which featured a large, black smudge. "Looks like soot..."

"Like something_ exploded_. What explodes in the Pleistocene?" Abby shook her head. "I think someone else has been here..."

Emily looked all around them, and shook her head. "Now, let's not let our imaginations run away with us. We're distressed, naturally, but we've both been stranded in time before and lived to tell about it. Sooner or later, another anomaly will turn up."

Abby studied the rock for another moment, then tossed it away. "We hope."

"What does that mean?"

"Well..." Abby picked the easiest path up the mountain and hoisted herself up, wishing she'd brought coms or an EMD or... a candy bar. Something. "I'm not Connor, but I'd guess we've had good luck with anomalies in the past because we tend to be around active ones. This time, we followed the path of an anomaly that was meant to go dormant. Who knows whether it'll open up again?"

Abby made it a couple of metres up the side of the cliff; she heard Emily grunt with exertion as she began the climb herself.

"Still," the other woman panted, "I'll bet Connor has the machine fixed in no time. You know how clever he is, and he must be mad with worry."

"Yeah..." Abby sighed.

"We've got to have some faith, yes? He and Matt won't stop looking. If I were you..."

"Well, you're not," Abby snapped. "Thanks for your advice, but Connor and I did just fine for years without it."

Emily must have been startled by her tone. Abby was a little startled herself. It was just... the thought of being stuck in a place like this again. All her little frustrations weighed on her twice as heavily.

"I... didn't mean any offense," Emily said.

"'Course you didn't. Look, forget it. Just climb."

Abby felt herself losing her balance as she reached for the next hand-hold. She groped for it, slipped, and nearly fell before catching herself. Something small and shiny tumbled out of her pocket...

"_No_!" she yelped, clutching after thin air as her wedding ring bounced down the mountain and came to rest at the base of it.

She started to climb down after it, but as she tried to pass Emily, the other woman grabbed her arm and pressed her against the rocks. Abby was just about to let her temper flare again-

"Shh!" Emily hissed. "Look!"

She nodded back the way they'd come, and Abby glanced in the direction indicated...

And there was the Smilodon that had made the tracks. It was crouched on the other side of the stream, just stopping for a drink. It hadn't even noticed them. But Emily started to slip and adjusted her foothold, accidentally dislodging a few small pebbles...

The Smilodon tensed, suddenly alert for prey. Its gleaming eyes narrowed as they located Abby and Emily against the rocks. The predator leaped the tiny stream and bounded toward them, sabre-teeth bared for the kill...


	5. 603 Act Four

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Four**

Emily Merchant had often heard it said that in moments of mortal danger, when the mind lost the ability to reason and gave way to extreme terror, a person's life might pass before her eyes. In Emily's case, it was not her own life she saw- a short enough span, not very important really. Instead, she saw all the years she'd missed, all the decades of human experience that had passed her by. She imagined all the time she'd skipped from 1867 to present: two world wars, man walking on the moon, disco music. In that moment, she felt tremendously lost and alone, a person out of time who shared almost nothing in the way of culture or experience with any of her peers.

Existential loneliness was awful, but getting devoured by a sabre-toothed cat sounded significantly worse. After a moment, Emily snapped out of it and started climbing. Abby climbed too, scrambling up the rock beside her even as her gaze kept returning to the bit of shiny metal she'd left at the base of the mountain.

The Smilodon pounced, its claws grazing the rock just centimetres below their feet. Emily held her breath, but repeated leaps produced the same result. They'd managed to climb just beyond the big cat's reach. It prowled back and forth in front of the cliff, as if trying to work out some way of coaxing them down for a quick meal.

Which was all well and good, except that Abby showed every sign of wanting to oblige. Her feet kept shifting, seeking out handholds on the level below them.

"Come on!" Emily said at length. "We've got to keep moving. Safer ground- you said it yourself!"

"Yeah," Abby said. "I just have to... hold on. Wait. I think I can..."

"Abby!" Emily hissed. She saw the bit of metal from the corner of her eye, shining as though it had caught fire from the sun. "What is that, a coin? Just leave it!"

"You don't understand. I can't!"

Emily sighed, thinking her friend was being ridiculously over-cautious. "Look, suppose someone digs it up in ten thousand years. The odds of something that small changing history have to be..."

Abby shook her head in frustration. "It's not like that! It's sort of... for luck..."

She tried another descent, which had the effect of provoking the Smilodon. Emily could have sworn it managed to score the bottom of her shoes with its running leap, but it still couldn't get to them, so long as Abby didn't do anything utterly foolish...

"Abby, whatever it is, it's not worth dying for! Come on!"

"...yeah."

Abby took a final, long look at the gleaming trinket, as though conceding the point was physically painful. But she did follow Emily, and few minutes later, they found themselves safely on the ledge Abby had spotted from the ground.

There was a sort of indentation in the rock that would do until a genuine cave came along. They could use it for shelter from the elements. The Smilodon continued growling at them for a time, but eventually gave up in favour of finding easier prey; something with its ungainly bulk simply couldn't hope to follow them.

Abby sat cross-legged at the end of the ledge, brooding as she watched it pad away. Emily wondered just how many of those missing decades she would have to have lived through in order to understand modern people...

* * *

Back at the ARC, Connor Temple was in the middle of his worst nightmare: He'd lost Abby, he'd lost the respect of both Lester and Matt, he was about to lose his _mind_ trying to remember where or when he'd seen the ominous Newman and his slouch hat, and now time itself was seemingly going out of its way to play tricks on him. That time might have been acting in self-defence for the massive act of temporal trespassing he'd been about to commit did occur to Connor, but he still considered such harsh reprisals less than sporting.

At least Matt and Lester were equally cross with each other, which gave Connor a moment to catch his breath.

"You knew about the double all along?" Matt demanded of Lester. "Is that why you've kept me in the dark?"

The ARC's director took a moment to look insufferably pleased with himself before nodding. "That's part of it, yes. It stands to reason that anything you know, he might know as well. Until I have a clearer idea what's going on, I prefer he knows as little of importance as possible."

Matt shook his head. "Lester, I know it's difficult, but he-_ I_ came back here to warn us!"

"How do we know that's his goal?" Lester replied. "Helen Cutter went mad from too many years bouncing through anomalies. He may be playing games. He may not be you. We've seen clones and cloaking technology in the future; suppose he's an impostor, or from some sort of alternative timeline."

Connor frowned. "You mean Mr. Spock with a beard, that sort of thing?"

"Loathe as I am to admit I understand the reference," said Lester, "the thought had occurred to me. I'm only trying to protect the ARC."

"But I spoke to him!" Matt insisted. "He couldn't fool _me_."

Lester arched an eyebrow. "It would be difficult, I grant. Or it might be particularly easy. You've spent your whole life looking for threats to time; I'm surprised you don't see them in your tea leaves. His sort of warning is right up your alley."

"But we can't take the risk!" Matt broke off, jerked a thumb at Newman. "You didn't bring in this fellow to do Becker's job; you brought him in to do mine. You're so convinced I'm the villain here?"

"I'm not convinced of anything," Lester said. "I'm simply hedging my bets until we know for certain."

Before Matt could get in another salvo in response to that, Connor waved his arms for attention, hoping to draw them back to the pressing issue at hand.

"This is all fascinating in a _Twelve Monkeys_ sort of way," he said, "but it's got nothing to do with getting Abby back. My device is rubbish now, and so's the project data. Completely fused. I'll have to rebuild the machine from scratch, and that will take months."

"Will this help?" said Newman.

He produced a flash drive and tossed it to Connor, who caught it in the air. Matt stared from him to Lester in turn, shocked and angry.

Connor didn't care in the slightest. "The project data! Brilliant! With this, I can reconstruct the machine in a matter of weeks, and since I won't be eating or sleeping until it's done, that means days."

"Was that why you wanted a copy?" Matt asked Lester. "Did you know this would happen?"

"I assumed he'd try something," Lester said. "It seemed too important to trifle with. Now let's see his next move."

Before Connor could get properly upset about the fact that his wife and and one his best friends were _gone_, perhaps forever, and right now the surly newcomer was the only one being the slightest bit helpful, reinforcements arrived in the form of Becker and Jess, who burst into Lester's office at a run.

"Sorry we're late," Becker said. "We came as soon as the alarm sounded."

"What's going on?" Jess asked. "Someone said Abby and Emily had gone missing..."

Since Matt and Lester each had their own version of events, Connor took the lead in filling them in. Almost before he'd finished his story, he noticed Becker had found something else on which to concentrate: the suspicious glare he received from Newman, which he returned in force.

"You're the captain of security, eh?" the Scotsman growled. "I'll want a word with you later about the rank carelessness I've seen around here."

Becker frowned at Lester. "Sorry; who's this and why is he tired of life?"

"I'm Chris Newman, MI6."

"...Becker."

Newman stuck out his hand. The other man frowned until he retracted it. That seemed to amuse him. "Haven't you a first name, Captain Becker?"

"You'd never be allowed to use it, so what's the point?"

Newman took a step forward; Lester held up a hand, placing himself between them as surely as if he'd stepped around the desk and done so physically.

"When we're done here, you two may go out to the parking garage and butt heads to determine who's Alpha Male. For now, please focus." He turned to Connor. "You. Get to work."

Connor shifted from foot to foot. He wanted to obey the order, but there was one small, uncomfortable fact still to be addressed.

"Well?" Lester prompted.

"It's just... I feel I should mention..." Connor looked down at his shoelaces. "Someone completely compromised my handiwork. It wasn't a virus; it was written straight into the program."

"Who could manage a thing like that?" Matt asked.

"In the ARC?" Connor shrugged. "Jess, maybe. No one else."

Jess turned to him in shock. "But you can't think _I'd_ ever-"

"Wasn't your style." Connor met Lester's eyes; in years past, he wouldn't have had the courage to do that. "The thing is, I know my own tracks in my own system, don't I? The person who helped Matt sabotage Project Morlock... was _me_."

Yes, those were precisely the shocked looks he was expecting; well, save for Newman, who always just smirked. The silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths...

"So much for him being an imposter," Matt said. "If Connor's working with him-"

"Proves little," Lester said. "He claims the team's long gone by his time. Who knows what's become of their work? Besides, I'm not convinced Connor's sane _now_."

"Er... thanks?" Connor said.

"But assume it's true," Jess said. "Why would Matt and Connor bother to sabotage a project that wouldn't exist without them? Why build it in the first place? Did you only want it to be used_ once_?"

She was staring at Connor, who spread his hands. "Don't look at me! I'm not planning to do it yet!"

"I can think of one reason," Becker said. "What do Emily and Abby have in common?"

Connor sighed; he knew this answer perfectly well. "They're the first people Matt and I would think to rescue from danger."

"But stranded in the past again, that's Abby's worst nightmare!" Jess said. "Why would you do that?"

"Can't imagine," Connor said, "unless there was no other way, and the alternative was worse."

"You mean, if the end of the world was near," Becker said.

Connor nodded. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and the others needed a moment to absorb it. It was Newman, the last personally involved, who broke the silence with a grunt in Connor's general direction.

"If this one's involved, he should be off the project, too."

"Believe me," Lester said, "sacking him has always been a dream of mine. But I fear no one else can get them back."

"Then leave them where they are," Newman said. "Write them off as collateral damage."

"That's not happening," Connor said, "ever."

"I agree," said Matt.

Even Lester, to his credit, baulked at that. "Let's don't be too hasty, Mr. Newman. I've found over the years-"

Newman turned on him. "Look, this isn't your personal fiefdom. I have full authority from the Minister to protect the integrity of this project, at any cost."

"All right, then tell him this," Connor said. His mouth felt very dry as he stared up- and _up_- at the much bigger man. "I'm not gonna stop. No matter what you say or do, I'll find her. If you sack me, I'll do it on my own."

"Connor-" Matt said.

"'Course, without the ARC, I'll have to build it from memory, with second-hand parts and inadequate power, and that's... not going to end well for the space-time continuum."

Newman glowered down at him. "You little git... are you threatening me with _global devastation_?"

"What, me? Nah! No. I don't threaten anyone. Look at me." Connor tugged at his collar, but did not back down. "I'm just telling you what'll happen. I will never, _never_ stop looking for Abby. So why don't you take that to the Minister and see if he thinks I'm bluffing?"

In a fury, Newman turned to Lester for help. The ARC director was a fair hand at bluffing himself; or maybe he'd always liked Abby a little more than he preferred to reveal. He kept his face expressionless and shrugged. Newman turned on his heel and stormed out the door.

"_Wow_," Jess said, when he was gone. "Connor, that was-"

"Unbelievable, mate!" Becker said, thumping him on the back.

"Yeh," Connor breathed. The room around him spun dizzily. "Could someone walk me to my lab, please? I think I just had a stroke..."

Jess hurried to his side and he leaned heavily on her arm, getting his bearings, while Lester rolled his eyes. He'd just won a staring contest with a man who could easily dismantle him; under normal circumstances, that thought would have thrilled Connor. But now he felt ice water in his veins; he was_ terrified_- but not of Newman, who was just another bully.

No, Connor was terrified because he had a secret the others probably didn't suspect: He wasn't bluffing, not even a little bit. He would absolutely turn the world upside-down if it would bring Abby back. He'd never suspected he was capable of that. It made him wonder what else he was capable of, and whether securing his help was really such an endorsement of the future Matt's motives...

* * *

Scrambling a little further up the mountain, Abby managed to locate some dry brush, which turned into a rather pitiful fire after a great deal of effort. Stephen and Becker had both gone to some lengths over the years to teach the teams survival skills. Abby had picked it up quicker than most- and had done everything she could to forget it all, upon coming back from the Cretaceous. She'd used the knowledge far too regularly back there to ever want to think about it again; even Connor, whose only previous success was accidentally setting that ridiculous hat he used to wear on fire, had to learn to survive. Fortunately, as much as Abby might have wished she'd put that whole period of her life out of her mind, most of it returned to her as the night frosted over and she and Emily huddled in the cave.

Abby was preoccupied with tending the fire; her companion kept a careful watch, not that she could really see anything, out in the night. Human eyes, pathetically ill-suited to the bottom of the food chain.

"I still don't see anything," Emily said, after a long silence. "I think we may have lost it."

"Don't be so sure," Abby said. "_Smilodon_ is a fantastic hunter- and it's not as though he's the only danger out there."

Emily leaned back against the stone wall, hugging herself and shivering. "Does this bring back as many bad memories for you as it does for me?"

"Lots of memories. Mostly awful." Abby thought about that and smiled. "Mostly."

"Yes, I suppose this isn't quite the same as having your boyfriend along. Sorry." Emily shook her head. "Speaking of, I hope we're back quickly. I'm meant to be at his bachelor party."

Abby's eyes had been drifting closed; one of them popped back open. "As what?"

"Well, not the stripper, certainly. I'm Victorian; we don't do that sort of thing."

Emily laughed at her own joke; Abby forced a smile. "Just one of the boys, then?"

"I suppose. It's actually liberating. Connor and his friends may be- what's the word? 'Geeks.' But as best I can determine, that means they don't have to care what other people think. You have no idea what a concept that is for a woman of my era; no one's _ever_ told me I could do whatever I liked before. With them, I can just be... me."

"Lovely," Abby said. "Couldn't wrap up being you by one or two A.M. in future, could you?"

She closed her eyes again, but not before she caught Emily frowning at her in surprise.

"I didn't think I was intruding. I never ask to come 'round. Connor invites me."

"Yeah, Connor doesn't _think_ about things like that. It's customary for the rest of us to do it for him, which you'd know if you'd been here longer than-" Abby caught herself, realised she was angrier than she had any right to be, and sighed. "Never mind."

"No, I mind very much," Emily said. "You know how I feel about Matt, and how Connor feels about you, and you ought to realize neither of us has a shred of interest in anybody else. You can't actually be _jealous_-"

"I'm not jealous like _that_!" Abby snapped. "Please, no. Jealous. As if."

"Then what in the world are we arguing about?"

"It's just..." Abby tried to think of a way not to answer, but Emily kept staring at her, and finally she sighed. "Connor used to beg me for _weeks_ to watch those films with him, or play some silly game. Then you come along and actually enjoy them- which was lovely, at first. But now...

"We used to have_ fun_ together, all the time. Even in the beginning, when we fancied other people, we just... fit, you know? But lately, everything is serious. Relationship stuff, arguments, time travel... the fate of the world. And I miss the way it was."

Emily's expression softened, her mouth forming a sympathetic 'O.' "It sounds like you need a holiday."

"I need _such_ a holiday." Abby squeezed shut her eyes and massaged her brow. "It feels like we've been running headlong into brick walls for six years. But how do you stop? Leave, and things fall apart. Leave, and some poor creature gets killed over _money_. I don't know if it's worth it..."

"Abby," Emily said carefully, "are you thinking of leaving us?"

Abby scoffed, the sound so bitter it surprised her. "Don't see how I could. You must realise by now, no one leaves the ARC alive. The only one who managed it was Jenny, and she had to turn into her own alternate-reality double."

"Sorry...?"

"_Really _long story," Abby said. "The point is, there's never any time."

Emily nodded. "And you feel I'm stealing the little time you've got?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's nothing personal, Connor's just sort of... mine. He's my best friend, and I don't make many friends these days. People are so much harder than creatures." Abby shook her head and stared out into the night. "It sounds silly when I say it aloud."

"No, it doesn't," Emily said. "I had no idea; I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Abby said. "Though you could have the decency to hate my lizard, so I could pretend it was about that."

"Oh, no, I love Rex! I think he's adorable! Actually, if you need anyone to mind him while you're on holiday, I could-"

Abby looked up sharply. "Don't even think about it."

"Sorry..."

Abby wasn't just grumbling; she actually was exhausted. As soon as she and Emily arrived at a tacit truce, she rolled over and tried to sleep. She drifted into a series of confused dreams:

_She was being followed by that strange man in the slouch hat, who turned up everywhere... in front of her building, in the background of her memories. He was even here, hidden like a chameleon against the prehistoric landscape... she'd glimpsed him earlier, when she'd been staring up into the sun, fading in and out of consciousness..._

Abby woke up with a start. The fire was dying, and she was freezing; or shivering, at least. While she built the fire back up, she thought about the dream. Surely it was just a lot of random images. That weird fellow on the pavement made her uncomfortable, and somehow got mixed in with her other, life-and-death worries. He hadn't really been here; he_ couldn't_ have...

"Abby?" Emily said, stirring. "Are you all right?"

Abby settled back against the wall and curled into a ball, hoping to halt the shuddering. "I'm fine. Go on back to sleep..."

Emily didn't go back to sleep; she was still afraid of the Smilodon. Abby considered the big cat a distant secondary concern. All the predators in the world didn't worry her as much as a human with an agenda, the most terrifying force known to nature...

_It was only a dream_, Abby thought, and tried to believe it. The fire never did stop her shivering.

* * *

Jess stood back and offered advice- helpful or not- while Connor and Becker moved equipment from his lab down to the menagerie. Connor said he needed to set up shop at the site of the original accident, because the same conditions were helpful for re-creating it; the fabric of the Universe, etcetera and so forth. He claimed remaining within the machine's residual field ought to offer a measure of protection from any changes to the timeline, thus making it possible to spot anything Abby and Emily might unknowingly alter.

Becker didn't doubt any of that, but he suspected part of it was that Connor simply didn't want to leave the last place he'd been with Abby. He wasn't ready to go to his lab or to the Hub, let alone back to his flat, and find those places empty. Becker understood that; he was afraid of losing someone, too.

He kept thinking back to his conversation with Matt- the future Matt, apparently not unknown within the ARC. He felt stupid for not detaining the other man now, but the whole thing happened quickly, and Matt's words had disconcerted him...

He hadn't decided what to do about them, yet. How could he? He kept glancing at Jess out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she suspected anything. She winked at him one time; perhaps she thought he was remembering that kiss. Becker would have given a lot for that to be all it was.

Could she really love him? Could he give that up in order to save her? How could he be sure without knowing what the danger _was_?

All questions that would keep. At the moment, Connor finally had his laptop up and running and was rebuilding his computer model. Jess peered over his shoulder.

"Have you thought about the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle?" she asked.

Connor frowned. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I don't know. It's a thing people think about when they're doing important physics stuff, yes?"

"Not helping, Jess..."

Jess made a face. "Perhaps I'd be up to speed if you'd told us you were doing this."

"She's got a point," Becker said, grunting as he pushed Connor's work table into position. "You and Matt took a big risk on nothing but your own authority- and apparently, you'll take it again."

"Sorry. Anyone else wants to save the world, you're more than welcome to take a turn!" Connor snapped.

Becker felt his temper rise, but let it go; getting into arguments while they were all worried about Abby and Emily wasn't helping anything.

"Where_ is _Matt?" Jess asked. "Lester's not really going to sideline him permanently?"

"In favour of Newman? I hope not!" Becker said. "I don't trust that man."

"Hmm," said Jess. "You're just jealous because he's strong and handsome."

"But I have better hair," Becker pointed out.

"That's true, you do."

"I'll tell you what," Connor said, "he reminds me of someone."

Becker searched his memory, but couldn't think of anyone so infuriating. "It's probably just the accent; makes me think of Professor Cutter."

"I wish," Connor sighed. "It's more than that..."

While Connor crunched his numbers at top speed, Becker sidled over beside him and cleared his throat. "So, apparently Matt's double has been around here just... appearing to people?"

"Not to me," Connor said. "I'm beginning to feel a bit left out."

Becker looked away. "It's not such an honour..."

The staccato clacking of keys fell silent; Becker didn't turn, but he could feel Connor's frown boring in on him.

"What's that supposed to mean? You haven't seen something, have you?"

Becker took a long look across the room at Jess, who was trying to comfort Rex and the diictodons while her input wasn't needed. She'd kept her optimism despite the situation; Jess was always a dreamer. It was a quality Becker knew he lacked, and often missed. He didn't have time to dream; he had to stay clear-headed, to make the hard decisions. To protect the team in his charge.

His decision made, he turned back to Connor and shrugged.

"No. I didn't see anything..."

* * *

Emily watched Abby as the minutes of the night ticked away into hours. The other woman became progressively more nervous, as though something more than this silly argument preyed upon her mind. Emily didn't know about that and didn't think Abby would be willing to share. But perhaps she could do something to make the other situation better...

"You know, Abby," she said, "it's not only to watch films with Connor that I come 'round."

"Yeah?" Abby said.

"Yes. The two of you will always be special- when I said Connor would be mad with worry, I didn't mean on my account. But if it's friends you want, you happen to be the best friend I've got."

"Really?" Abby arched an eyebrow, somewhere between surprise and pity. "That's... sad for you..."

"Oh, believe me, I know." Emily laughed, and even got a chuckle out of Abby. "There's so much still to see in that world of yours... I really want to get back. Is there nothing we can do to help them? Just... stay in the target area?"

Abby shrugged. "That's all I know, and I'm starting to fear it's not such a good idea. I think we're being watched."

This time, Emily laughed more and Abby laughed not at all. "You're mad! Who's watching, cavemen?"

"Not exactly- although, keep an eye out. No, I'm thinking of someone else. I wish we had a better refuge; I'm afraid we might be exposed up here."

Emily frowned. "We'd be more exposed down in the valley- at least that sabre-tooth can't reach us here."

"I told you, Smilodon's not the only danger."

"What could possibly be as frightening as...?" Emily blinked. "Oh, yes. You said the American lion or cave lion."

"That's right," Abby said, "and they'll hunt as a pride, so it's not as simple as avoiding just one."

"No, Abby," Emily said in a remarkably calm voice. "You said the _cave_ lion."

Slowly, Abby turned to follow Emily's line of sight. She nodded when she saw the huge, shaggy shape of a gigantic lion silently creeping up on the den they'd apparently nicked. By the several sets of gleaming eyes visible on the rocks outside, the whole family had come home for dinner.

"I did say that," Abby murmured. "Sort of wish I'd been listening..."


	6. 603 Act Five

**Primeval 6.3 **("Time After Time")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Five**

Abby snatched up a branch from the fire and held it forth as a torch. With her other hand, she beckoned Emily to her as the lion advanced.

"Stay close. Don't let it see weakness."

Emily followed orders, crowding close enough to whisper in Abby's ear. "And that will save us?"

"Er- not really, no."

The lion growled and crouched low to pounce. Abby thought of Connor, of her brother Jack, and wondered if Emily would have a slightly better chance of escape if she threw herself in front of it and took the brunt of the attack. She thought it was in the "one in a million" range, either way.

Before the lion could launch its assault, something flew into the cave and struck the beast, leaving a long gash along its flank. Abby blinked several times before she realized it was a primitive spear, made of wood, with a stone tip. Bloodied and confused, the lion roared and changed direction, racing out of the cave. Very quickly, the gleaming eyes behind it followed suit; Abby heard roars, hisses, shrieks- and shouting. Human voices shouting.

Emily ran to the front of the cave to have a look; Abby grabbed up the spear and followed. There were shapes moving in the shadows: Early humans, hunter-gatherers with particular emphasis on the _hunter_, scurried around the rocks and jabbed at the lions with spears.

"Wonderful timing," Emily murmured.

_Suspicious timing_, Abby thought, was more like it. What in the world had possessed such a small group of humans to charge a pride of lions?

Emily nodded to the trail leading further up the mountain, pioneered by them earlier to secure fuel for the fire. "Shall we...?"

Abby grabbed her arm before she could run. "Wait."

Emily frowned; she understood a moment later, when one of the hunters appeared in front of the cave entrance. He brandished his spear at them, but the moment's distraction cost him; a lioness barrelled into him from the side and ripped out his throat. Another moment, and that would have been Emily. If Abby hadn't seem the barest glimmer of moonlight reflected from its eyes...

"_Now_ run!" she hissed.

Her companion didn't need any urging. Emily was out the door and headed up the trail before Abby was able to take her eyes off the scrum outside. Halfway up, where the glow of the firelight was all but forgotten, they turned to watch the climax of the battle; a small group of humans stood in a knot, brandishing spears and knives, as the lions closed in...

"We should help them," Emily said.

"They never should have attacked," Abby murmured. "I've never seen anything so completely mental..."

"Perhaps that's what's called_ natural selection_." Emily's amusement over her joke was lost when one of the humans screamed. "Still, they may be someone's ancestors. Could we have caused this?"

"Something caused this, but I doubt it was us. I don't think two women from the future popping up will do the timeline any favours."

"Yes, but if we helped them-"

Abby shuddered and turned away from the carnage. "We wouldn't have a prayer."

Emily had to concede there was precious little difference the two of them could make with a single spear; they kept moving up the ridge until the last sounds of combat receded. By then, the sky was turning from black to deep blue. Somewhere in the distance, a bird sounded the first trumpet of dawn.

They finally had to stop and rest; Emily collapsed on top of a large, flat rock. When she'd caught her breath, she muttered, "I'm quite sure we're out of the target area. Shall we double back?"

Abby shook her head. "No. We keep moving, as soon as you're able."

"But Matt and the others will come looking for us!"

"Someone's already looking for us," Abby said. "I think the best thing we can do is keep them away from the target area- away from the future. Otherwise, if Connor and Matt do come back, they'll be walking into a trap."

Emily frowned at her. "You're serious? You really think we're being observed?"

"I'm sure of it now," Abby said. From their vantage point, she could survey the whole landscape around them- still mostly dark, at the moment. She could almost _feel_ the strange pursuer in the slouch hat. He might be anywhere; he might want anything. Most likely, if he was working for Southfield, he wanted the time machine. Abby had no intention of being anyone's bait. "We have to change the target area- find safe ground, and some way of telling the others to look there."

"Right. Small problem with that: We're twelve thousand years before the invention of coms."

"Other ways to send a message." Abby took a deep breath. "If you're rested, we should go."

Emily grumbled a bit, but climbed to her feet. Abby looked at the spear in her hand and shuddered; those lions might control a lot of territory, and the spear wasn't much protection- especially since Abby didn't think she could make herself use it. If she was wrong, she was putting the team in danger for nothing. She was putting Connor in danger.

But she wasn't wrong, and she knew it. Earlier, she'd claimed difficulty understanding her fellow humans; but _hunters_ were her mortal enemies, and she knew their ways very well. If that fellow in the slouch hat thought she'd make easy prey, well...

She wasn't sure she could use the spear on a lion. That didn't mean she couldn't use it at all.

* * *

Sometimes Connor thought the hardest part of his job was being the biggest sci-fi fan in the ARC. He'd hoped to remedy that with Emily, but now that she was gone, he was stuck with a lot of well-meaning people apparently completely unfamiliar with the classics.

Connor was thinking specifically of _Back to the Future_. If any of his friends had paid attention to that film, they'd have understood the delicacy and danger of the work he was doing much too quickly. Instead, Jess kept popping in to "encourage" him and sometimes just to chat; and when it wasn't Jess, it was Matt or Becker at her urging. Even Lester came down to the menagerie one time, just to hover.

They were trying to help, he supposed. They knew he felt awful about losing Abby, and worse because it seemed to be his fault. By the third day, Connor wanted to grab someone by the lapels, shake them, and shout _You're not thinking fourth-dimensionally!_ He didn't need anyone's pity; he needed to understand the chain of causation.

Everyone wanted to know how things ended, but that was exactly the wrong question. Connor and Matt's future actions weren't immutable realities, they were possibilities shaped by the present. Rather than wondering about them, Connor tried to understand what must be happening right _now_. It was like guiding a boat adrift at sea into port; the first thing you had to know was your own location.

He had one compass to guide him: No matter how grim things looked- even if, technically speaking, Abby had been gone for thousands of years by now- and no matter how time might change him, Connor knew he would never intentionally put her at risk. He'd been in love with Abby from practically the first moment he saw her; if she was in the past, it was because he knew she'd come through all right. She _needed_ to be there- somehow, it was safer than the present. But only temporarily, because his future self also knew his past self would rescue her.

The more he thought about the present, the more Connor thought he knew what was happening. He understood the actions he would take that could lead to such a future. He hoped he was wrong. He _had_ to be wrong. He didn't tell the others yet, because it was highly theoretical and sounded mad. Besides, if he was right, there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

But he took precautions. While he was rebuilding the time device, he rigged up a couple of smaller things he thought they might need later. Just in case he wasn't wrong.

Between the interruptions and the side projects, Connor reckoned himself to be far behind schedule. But the others seemed impressed, all the same; in fact, they seemed concerned by his pace. The only companions he didn't find deeply annoying were Rex, Sid, and Nancy. On day three, Connor scratched Sid's muzzle while he worked out a complicated physics problem. The diictodon stared at him, impatient with the absence of its primary caretaker.

"I know how you feel, mate," Connor told. "I'm working as fast as I can. What I need is a precise calculation of these vectors. Any ideas?"

Sid just stared at him. Connor shrugged.

"Right. I suppose you'll just take credit for my work again. I'm getting a bit tired of carrying you."

Sid rested his paws on Connor's forearm, perhaps misunderstanding the worry _carry_. Connor shook him off, wondering whether it was really healthy to hold sustained conversations with a prehistoric rodent lizard.

He was still wondering when Jess entered with a tray; the clock had literally lost all meaning to Connor, but he supposed it must be a mealtime of some sort.

"Lunch," Jess said, ending the mystery.

"Set it down on the table," Connor said, without looking up.

"Connor, it's been more than 48 hours. You have to eat."

"I'm building a time machine, Jess. When I'm finished, I can go back and feast all day."

Jess did put down the tray- and gently but definitely closed Connor's laptop, forcing him to look at her. "If you get over-tired, you'll make mistakes. You won't be helping them."

Connor sighed. He knew she was right, but he shook his head. "You don't know what it's like. Stuck back there, no way home, no hope... I still dream about it."

Jess smiled sympathetically, then frowned at the chaos of his makeshift travelling lab. "What can I do to help?"

"That station over there." Connor pointed to another computer with a stack of books and several empty cans stacked in front of it, and Nancy asleep in front of the display. "I've been compiling a database; mostly science articles, anything that might indicate a time-shift. If they were forced out of the target area, we'll need any clues we can find."

Jess started clearing away the mess. She managed to shoo Nancy out of the way, but frowned. "Er- Connor, I think this thing ate my keyboard."

"Yeah, she does that when she's nervous. Just get another."

While Jess was hunting for a new keyboard, alarms sounded in the ARC: A new anomaly. Connor stood up so fast, he slammed his knee into the top of work table. He bit back a streak of profanity because Sid was staring at him; he hated to embarrass the diictodons.

"You can stay where you are," Jess said mildly. "I'm here on my day off, and you're to keep working. Becker and Matt have got it. No problem."

By the look on her face, Connor thought she suspected a very real problem, probably because Newman was involved. But that was another thing Connor didn't have time to sort out properly; so he did as he was told, for once. He kept working, and hoped his worst fears were groundless...

* * *

It was funny, Chris Newman thought as he raced up several flights of stairs toward the roof of a London office building, taking them two at a stride. His new co-workers at the ARC only seemed to suspect danger at times when it would do them the least good. From his files, he knew they'd nearly been too late to stop Oliver Leek, they'd almost lost a game of hide-and-seek to Christine Johnson and the military. They'd certainly taken their time about discovering Southfield. They seemed to escape these situations by a combination of fantastic luck and (admittedly) admirable bravery, but they spent most of their time reacting, rather than moving pro-actively to find and eliminate threats.

And now they suspected Newman. Not five years ago, when he'd been working to delay the team while Leek made his move. Not last year, when he'd returned through the same anomaly during Convergence to stalk Abby Maitland and Emily Merchant's unplanned expedition. But now, when he was trying to make things right. When he was (sort of) helping them (for the moment).

He'd tried to warn them about the damned time machine. He'd tried to warn them about Connor Temple and Matt Anderson, the potential for a paradox that might now be unavoidable. Not precisely in the most honest manner, of course, but he'd done what he could without compromising past clients. And what did it get him? Crowd control. He was assigned to hold back the damned civilians while Becker and Matt took on the dinosaur threat.

And good riddance. Newman didn't particularly care if the team perished; they were weak and sentimental, everything his father had always warned him against. But he did have a contract with the ARC which bound him to Lester's authority for the moment, and he prided himself on fulfilling contracts. Besides, if they thought they could keep him out of the really good fights, they would soon discover differently...

He hit the roof running, EMD charged and ready. He took a moment to discover the source of the trouble-

_There._ Becker and Matt, racing across the roof in the other direction, pursuing...

_Well, hello. Aren't you a beauty? _

A live pteranodon- adult specimen, male, six-metre wingspan- suddenly turned and swooped down upon the two men, causing them to dive for cover. Newman fired twice, but the beast was out of range before he had time to react. He ran to Becker and Matt as they recovered; he could see from the way they moved that nothing was damaged but their pride.

Becker swore as the pteranodon flew away. "Never thought I'd miss Connor so much until he started spending all hours in his lab..."

"The little fellow?" Newman said when he arrived. "He doesn't seem like he'd be much use in the field."

"He makes good bait," Becker explained.

"It's true," said Matt. "Creatures will stand still, just for the chance to eat him. It's strange."

"It's coming 'round again," said Becker. He hefted his EMD.

Neman pushed him out of the way. "Stand aside, gents. This is how a professional does it."

"Oh," said Becker, "that's not going to get annoying at _all_..."

Newman grinned; he knew he could make the shot. Annoying the stuck-up soldier boy was just an added bonus. He sighted carefully, aiming for the centre of a triangle formed by the tips of the flying lizard's leathery wings and the crest atop its head. His finger tightened on the trigger-

_The world disappears in a burst of memory and light. He's somewhere else- he's_ someone_ else- but he's on a roof very like this one, with a creature very like this one bearing down upon him._

_There are others on the roof, and he knows them- not the way he should know them, not from his files, but as though they've spent time together. They're his friends. One of them is a tough-looking young man named Stephen Hart, who sights carefully with a tranquilliser rifle, but misses his first shot, to everyone's distress-_

_Another is a woman. He can't recall her name, but she's very important. She's important to him personally, and she's beautiful- auburn hair, gorgeous eyes. She's frightened of the creature, even as it takes aim at the red blouse she's wearing and pursues her across the roof. Before it catches her, she vanishes into thin air, as though she never existed at all-_

Newman gasped. His vision cleared, and the world was as it should be. Unfortunately, that world included a pterosaur bearing down on him at high speed, and- thanks to his awkward hesitation- absolutely no time to fire. In a second, it would skewer him...

Matt slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. Becker took the shots that Newman should have taken, striking the pteranodon three times, so that it tumbled end-over-end and skidded across the roof, halting several metres away.

_What the hell just happened? _

Newman tried to catch his breath. He'd experienced the moment out of time as though it was a memory- but it wasn't_ his_ memory! He'd only encountered Nick Cutter's original team once, during the mammoth incident, and Stephen Hart wasn't with them. He'd never met the man!

And the woman- thinking back, she resembled Jennifer Lewis, the ARC's former public-relations liaison. But in the vision, she'd been someone else, someone both familiar and foreign in the way of dreams. He'd known her there. But Newman had never seen that woman, not even in his files...

Before he could work it out, Becker helped him to his feet. The security captain looked more than a little smug. "You see, that's how professionals do it."

"Ah, give the newbie a chance," Matt said, as he inspected the creature they'd knocked out of the sky. "He'll get the hang of it."

"The trick is not freezing up at the last moment," said Becker. "MI6, indeed. I'll just call you Bait now."

His customary arrogance shaken, Newman grabbed Becker's sleeve. "You've... done this before?"

"Yeah, sure," Becker said. "The team's been active for years. It's not our first pteranodon."

Newman scowled; that wasn't the question he wanted answered. In fairness to Becker, he didn't know what the real question _was_.

Then he had it. "Who was the woman?"

"What d'you mean?" said Matt. "What woman?"

"The one who wasn't there..."

Becker pulled his arm away, shook his head in mock-sympathy. "I think you might have hit your head, Bait. We'll get you checked out at the ARC. Oh, and: follow our lead next time, okay?"

Becker walked away; Matt called for backup to haul the creature from the roof. Newman remained where he was, staring at the slate-grey concrete beneath his boots, thoroughly confused...

* * *

The sun was shining and giant prehistoric birds were chirping as Emily returned to the latest in a series of caves with an armload of roots and tubers. She found Abby already awake, sitting cross-legged near the rear wall of the cave, hands working furiously- status quo for the better part of a week.

"Breakfast is served!" Emily called. When she received no response, she continued, "We've got some lovely roots this morning. I recommend the roots, mainly because I've never been certain what a _tuber_ is. I thought they were these sort of potato-looking things, but now I think those may be hallucinogenic. Please don't ask how I know that... Abby? Are you listening?"

"Sorry, what?" Abby turned and stretched out her legs with a groan. "Sorry. You said something about breakfast? Is this our fifth or sixth?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't count the days here. Too depressing."

"Go ahead and count." Abby grinned. "I'm hoping it's our final meal in the Pleistocene."

"I like your confidence..." Emily sighed. "I still think we should consider going back. We haven't seen any predators for days."

"That's right," Abby said, "we haven't. I keep finding tracks, though. Tracks from lions- which by rights ought to be all around this area. But we never see the lions. We walk right into their dens, and nothing. Yesterday I saw a fresh kill, left out in the sun. Nothing near it. No predators at all."

Emily tried to reason through that, and finally shrugged. "You think your mystery man is keeping them away? Then... he's helping us?"

Abby scoffed. "People who are helping you introduce themselves. People who protect you from the shadows but don't want to be seen are biding their time. They want you for themselves."

Emily dropped her armload of produce on the ground; it couldn't get any dirtier. "Why would anyone want us?"

"Because we're leverage," Abby said. "The fact that we're here proves Connor's done something no one else has ever done, at Matt's urging. Between us, we're all the leverage Southfield would ever need."

"You don't think you're being slightly paranoid?"

"Wish I was," Abby sighed; Emily noticed for the first time how tired she looked- exhausted, really. She'd been taking the lead every day, keeping watches at night, and working on her side project every spare moment. Emily didn't know why she didn't collapse. But there was utter certainty in her voice when she said, "He's still out there. I glimpse him sometimes at night, in the shadows. I'm never sure. He's very good. But he's waiting. He's keeping us safe in case they need to use us against the team."

"In that case, we're running out of time," Emily said. "There's something you should see-"

"We need to turn the tables on him," Abby interrupted, talking mostly to herself. "It's been six days. If Connor can't rebuild that machine in less than a week, he's not the man I married."

"You mean, the man you're marrying."

"Yes," Abby said, an odd little smile on her face as she stood, "something like that. Point is, we have no choice. We've got to put him out of the way before the others arrive. We can't let him ambush them."

"Are you _sure_ the team will arrive?" Emily asked. "I know you're proud of your handiwork, but-"

"Trust me," said Abby, "this will work."

Emily stepped back to survey the thing Abby had been working on- her latest masterpiece. She'd made a mixture of dirt, mortar, and oil from crushed seeds, a technique she claimed to have learned in the Cretaceous, from Connor. They'd been so incredibly bored and borderline mental by the end of month ten, he'd seriously considered making anachronistic cave paintings, "just to freak people out." Abby talked him out of it, but now she was using that knowledge to lead the team in their direction, smearing the mixture on her hands and then on the walls, creating vintage Pleistocene masterpieces.

Her first paintings had been small, modest, with only a few minor details- a marking reminiscent of the ARC logo, for example- designed to stay out of the way of history, but draw the attention of people who knew what to look for. But the further they ran, the more Abby feared the trail would be inadequate. Finally, she decided to take a risk: The latest painting covered most of the cave wall. It wasn't finished, but Emily detected the outline of a large, multicoloured portal- an anomaly- and a flying lizard emerging from it.

"I don't know, Abby," Emily said. "The timeline-"

"Look, if we do this, we drive some scientists mad, start one or two conspiracy theories, and get home." Abby shrugged. "If they get the time machine, they can make any world they like, and it's not unlikely everyone dies. Which do you prefer?"

"There's something else you should know, though," Emily said. "I was trying to tell you. Outside."

She beckoned for Abby to follow; they made their way down the path she'd used while gathering, to where the mountains gave way to foothills. At the furthest edge of the path, it was possible to look out a long way and see the distant scenery... including what looked like a large, reflective lake, bubbling here and there, with a couple of mammoths wading in it. Upon further inspection, however, they did not prove to be wading- they were trapped. Every so often, they lifted their trunks and called for help that would never come.

Emily said, "I think I know where we are now..."

"The La Brea Tar Pits," Abby said, "in their prime. So many creatures will go there to drink, get stuck in the tar, and never come out..."

"You'd better be right that we can turn the tables; I don't think there's any escape in that direction."

Abby turned, very slowly, and Emily saw that she was grinning. She wondered if the other woman had cracked under the strain, particularly when Abby started laughing.

"Actually," she said, "this gives me a really good idea..."

* * *

At the end of a long day, James Lester sealed himself inside his office, called up soothing music from the computer, and debated fortifying himself with a strong drink before settling on a cup of tea. Now that his secret was out, his job was more or less returning to normal- but the days still took their toll. Determining what was safe to tell Matt, what he could tell even the Minister for fear it would get back to Newman... he had to consider the ramifications of every word he spoke. For a man whose greatest outlet was allowing his sarcastic streak to run wild, it was exhausting. So he needed just a moment's peace and quiet to gather himself, and-

And of course, the intercom sounded. Lester put down his teacup. It turned out to be Jess.

"Connor's almost ready to try the machine again," she said.

"I'll be right down."

_More's the pity,_ Lester thought, with a longing look at the tea that would certainly be cold by the time he returned. He groaned as he pushed back his chair, turned, and-

There was Matt Anderson, the future Matt, glaring at him. That was another reason Lester's nerves were on edge; he'd been expecting this conversation for some time.

"That wasn't very smart, James," the time-traveller said. "I warned you what could happen if you told anyone about me."

"You've hardly been the soul of discretion," Lester reminded him. "Which makes me wonder what precisely your game is. Are you trying to save us, Matt? Or kill us?"

A muscle twitched in Future-Matt's cheek, but he said evenly, "Whatever I'm doing, you can believe it's for the best."

"No, I don't think I can. One look at Newman cured me of that. You realise he was working for the man who tried to kill me?"

The other scowled. "It's not all about _you_, James."

"Indeed not. It's also about Southfield- you remember Southfield, the place with the plague you told me would destroy the world? Newman's EMD grenade is based on their technology. Is he working for them, too?"

"Technology doesn't have a conscience," Future-Matt said. "In the future, everyone will have access to it; everyone who survives. You can trust Newman to do what he needs to do."

"Yes," Lester said, "I think I believe you about that. We both know why he's here, don't we? I thank you for the suggestion. Now kindly leave us alone, before you muck up anything else."

He tried to walk out the door, but Future-Matt got in his way. "Lester, you have to listen. I can't tell you everything-"

"Do you know what I think, Matt? I think you're not certain what you're doing; this is all trial and error. I think there's every chance you'll cause what you mean to avoid." By the other's expression, Lester saw he'd hit close to the mark with that one, so he kept going. "I cannot say this clearly enough: This team was assembled to _meet_ the future. Whatever is coming, I won't help you run from it."

"You'll regret that, James." The pain on the other's face turned to a mad sort of smile. "Besides, how long can you keep me out? As soon as the other Matt knows your plan, I will. You can't win at this game."

"Can't I? I do have one advantage; you've already told me what you fear the most." Lester leaned close to whisper in the other's ear: "_She's in danger_."

Future-Matt flinched. Lester had the satisfaction of seeing real shock on the other's face, but he soon rallied. "You wouldn't dare trifle with her. You know how dangerous it is. You don't have the courage."

"Really, Matt." Lester smiled as he side-stepped the time-traveller, heading for the door. "After so much time.. how do you not know me at all?"

He didn't look back; he didn't know how long it was before Future-Matt disappeared. He did know the other didn't continue the argument, didn't meet him in the corridors, didn't threaten him. Lester had been left to deal with the present as it came, and that was more than enough victory for the moment...

* * *

When the call came in from Jess, Becker wasn't surprised; he was already moving down the corridor toward the menagerie, an EMD rifle slung over his shoulder. He'd guessed the time it would take Connor to rebuild the machine within an hour, which made it a real shame he'd been forced, as captain of security, to close down the betting pool.

Still, Becker had known Connor and Abby longer and better than almost anyone; he knew they couldn't be kept apart for long, and he knew how resourceful Connor could be when focused. He had everything at the ARC figured out, save his own personal life, and was rarely surprised by anything that happened.

So when Matt Anderson unexpectedly joined him in the corridor, he knew there was a problem. At first, he thought it was the double, playing another game- but then he realized it was far simpler.

"You want to save Emily, don't you?"

"Damn right," Matt said.

Becker sighed. "You know you can't."

"I have to. If Lester thinks I'll sit and wait while her life is in danger-"

"Matt, you can't!" When Matt kept walking, Becker grabbed his arm. When he tried to break free, Becker put him into the wall. He only used enough force to make it clear he was serious, and waited for Matt to realise he wasn't going to let go.

"Don't you see what's happening, Becker?" his friend said. "All this time stuff- it's turning us against each other. Everyone's keeping secrets. We're supposed to be a _team_."

"Yes," Becker admitted. "But this isn't helping. You know Lester's right; there's something wrong about your double. He's unstable at least, maybe dangerous. I don't know why or how, and I don't think it's your fault. But it is what it is. You have to stay away from the time machine; for all we know, that's how the trouble starts."

"Look, I know what I'm doing!" Matt said.

"Yeah; when it comes to time, you're absolutely certain you know what you're doing. And that's dangerous." Becker took a deep breath, released the other man, and stepped back. "Look, we've all given you a lot of trust since you came here, and I won't say you haven't earned it. But you've got to trust _us_, this time. Connor's not a silly kid any more, Emily and Abby can take care of themselves, and I'm not going to let anything happen to any of them."

Matt knew he was right, but he wasn't done arguing. "You'll need my help. I can't stay behind."

"Look, someone has to deal with the anomalies. Unless you'd like Newman to have the run of the place, someone's got to keep an eye on him. We'll be all right. Emily will be safe. You have my word."

After a long moment, Matt met his eyes. "I'll hold you to that."

Much relieved, Becker nodded. "You have a plan for Newman?"

"I thought I'd slap the smirk off his face, and then beat him to death."

"Works for me. Don't get caught."

Becker cracked a smile; Matt reached out and offered his hand. They shook, and then parted. Becker could feel Matt's eyes on him all the way down the corridor, but the other man held back. After one more check of the charge on his EMD, Becker stepped into the lift, heading toward the menagerie.

He found Connor already inside, toting an EMD of his own, Jess working at a computer console, and Lester looming over her impatiently.

"I'm ready," Becker said. "Let's get on with it."

"Right," Connor said. "I've just sent another applenaut back and forth a dozen times-"

"_Eleven_ times," Lester grumbled. "The first time, he missed the calibration and made apple-sauce."

"Right, sorry about your suit. But it's working now. Unfortunately, the scanner can't find them in the target area; so we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Once we're in position, Jess can retrieve us all."

"Assuming I know how these buttons work," Jess quipped. She smiled at Becker, and he looked away.

Lester cleared his throat. "If you were waiting for a sentimental goodbye..."

"Right," said Connor.

He stepped into what had been the mammoth pen and motioned for Becker to join him. Becker saw the time machine's transmitter dishes pointing directly at them; he felt like he was facing a firing squad. _Apple-sauce, indeed..._

Connor nodded when he was in position. "Ready, Jess!"

"Right, I'm going to-" Something pinged from the computer; some sort of warning. For a moment, Becker thought the machine had malfunctioned, but Jess called up a screen full of text and started reading.

"In your own time," said Connor. "We're just saving Abby and making history. No pressure."

She looked up sharply. "Connor, your database has found something."

"Is it about the cave paintings?" Connor asked. A few days ago, the database had started turning up articles about a series of small paintings in Southern California which seemed to bear markings related to the ARC. Connor had sworn they were onto something, but it had turned out to be a false alarm.

"Best evidence still indicates they were a hoax," Jess said. "I've got something else. Have you ever heard of La Brea Woman?"

Connor furrowed his brow. "Yeah. Only human remains ever found in the La Brea Tar Pits."

"Well, look."

Jess turned the screen around; an article in a science blog now bore a picture of two partial skeletons, with the large-font caption: "**La Brea Women? Human Remains Found in Tar Pits.**"

Becker read the text and looked away; bile flooded his throat. He rested a hand on Connor's shoulder, but the other man shrugged it off.

"Doesn't matter," Connor said. "Do it, Jess. Activate."

"Connor, it's part of history now. You can't just-"

"Four dimensions. It will never have happened. Now _activate the damned machine_."

Jess turned to Lester for final authorisation; he nodded. She pressed a key, and Becker's ears were filled with a shrill, persistent whine. A moment later, a golden glow filled his vision...

And then the world disappeared.

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

___...in this same file. Abby and Emily go on the offensive, Connor and Becker mount a rescue, and an old friend returns to the ARC, in..._

_**Primeval 6.4: I, Claudia**_

___Coming Soon!_


	7. 604 Teaser

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Teaser**

"Are you ready?"

Emily Merchant turned to her companion in crime (and time) with a distinctly unhappy look on her face. "Do I have a choice?"

Abby Maitland-Temple took a long, last look around the rocky prehistoric landscape: the blue sky, huge, circling birds, and bubbling tar pits now entirely too close. "You do have a choice. Of course, if you make the wrong one, it ends in disaster and we'll have gone to a lot of trouble for nothing. So, really, I was just being polite."

Emily nodded. She couldn't have expected anything else: They'd spent the better part of a day planning and executing this: one of them making a commotion to distract their mysterious pursuer in the slouch hat, while the other crept away to acquire the items they needed- a sturdy fallen tree branch and a bloody chunk of the abandoned kill Abby had noticed some distance back- and move them to the top of this rocky hill. After that, they'd tread a winding path around the rocks until Abby was sure the pursuer must have lost sight of them temporarily. And now it was time to reappear.

Emily wet her hands with blood and began smearing it on her blouse.

"Get as little on the rest of you as possible," Abby said. "You're going to be a walking advertisement for predators until that washes off."

"Oh, good," said Emily, as her expression changed from concern to disgust. "I still don't understand why I have to be the bait! You're a zoo-keeper! You're used to... animal excretions and the like..."

"We drew lots fairly," Abby said, "and I have to hit him over the head. You're a bit old-fashioned for that sort of thing, aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon! I'll have you know I was Spring-Heeled Jack! Well, a raptor was, but I was suspected! I'm perfectly capable of violence!"

"Yeah," Abby grinned. "But I'm better at it..."

Perhaps because that was probably true, Emily did no further grumbling. When her blouse was thoroughly ruined, she turned to Abby. "How do I look?"

"Not bad. Now let's see you act the part."

Emily took a deep breath, moved to the edge of the hilltop, and sprang up from behind the rock. "Oh, no- no! Help! Hellllllllllll-"

_Over-dramatic_, Abby thought, wishing her companion from the past had been Elizabethan instead. Shakespeare could have taught her a thing or two about nuance. Still, Emily did a reasonable job of pitching herself down the hill. She rolled all the way to the bottom and lay still, until even Abby feared she might really have hurt herself...

She forced herself to remain hidden, however. If she was right, their pursuer was under orders not to allow any harm to befall them; at least, not until they were needed. So if Emily appeared to be seriously hurt and Abby did not appear to help her, the man in the slouch hat would be forced to do the job himself. He'd be forced to break cover, and then-

There! Moving out of concealment not fifty metres away, hurrying down the hill with a pack slung over his shoulder. A tall man, powerful, weathered- the same man Abby had seen on the pavement outside her building, a week ago. Apparently he'd been following her for some time.

Cursing and grumbling a streak, he skidded to a halt beside Emily and knelt beside her to check her vital signs. When he found she was alive, as he must have done, he squinted up into the blue with a look of mixed relief and exasperation and fanned himself with his distinctive hat.

Abby suddenly remembered she was supposed to be moving herself. While the man in the slouch hat was absorbed with Emily, she manoeuvred back down the path to the base of the hill and crept around behind him. He'd opened his pack and was just beginning to realise there was no obvious place to apply the bandage when Abby tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled, his face betraying chagrin that indicated he already knew he'd been taken in-

"Nice hat," Abby said, and she smashed him over the head with the heavy branch.

He dropped like a stone, nearly landing on top of Emily, who proved perfectly spry as she rolled out of the way and sat up. She began fastening her top two buttons- fortunately, as far as the examination had proceeded. She glared at their unconscious pursuer.

"Good riddance," she said. Then, glaring at Abby, "You might have told me he'd try to remove my clothing!"

"He didn't mean it_ that_ way. He was looking for a wound to treat. What did you think was going to happen?"

Emily grimaced. "I don't know. I don't think about nudity; I'm _Victorian_!"

_Oh, dear_, Abby thought._ You're going to love this, then..._

Moving quickly, she removed the unconscious man's khaki shirt, leaving him in a thermal vest, and tossed the shirt to Emily. The tar pits would be crawling with predators; they couldn't very well go there smelling like a free dinner.

"Go over behind the rocks and change. Hide the bloody clothing, just in case his friends come looking." Abby sighed as she slung the man's pack over her shoulder. "Come on, quickly! We've got to drag him a long way before he wakes."

She was underselling it, at that. It took them nearly an hour to drag their pursuer to the brink of the bubbling water that concealed the tar pits; even with the vest, his arms and back got scraped and scratched, and Abby had to call a halt midway to hit him over the head again when he seemed to be recovering.

He was waking up again when they finally had him on the banks of the tar pits, some metres away from the tempting targets presented by two trapped mammoths. Abby felt a good deal more compassion for those beasts than she did for the pursuer, but there was nothing to be done for them...

There were no identifying documents in the man's pack, but there was a knife and a sturdy length of cord for climbing. Abby cut off a piece to bind his hands, then tied one end of the cord around his ankle and the other around the largest rock she could find. She and Emily heaved the rock as far as they could; it sank into the tar and pulled the cord tight.

"Ow! Dammit! What the...?" snarled the pursuer, who shook himself to full awareness. He looked down at his state of attire, at Emily wearing his shirt, and arched an eyebrow. "Apparently I've missed a lot."

"Don't worry," Abby said, "nobody enjoyed themselves."

"I've heard that from women before."

"I'll bet you have." She knelt beside him and studied the blade of his knife as it glittered in the sunlight. "Now, why don't you tell me about your friends, and why you're following us?"

The man studied her; he had very cold blue eyes, a couple of shades lighter than Abby's own, and more prone to amusement. "No. I don't talk about my clients, and you don't have the courage to torture me, so stop pretending you do."

Abby closed the knife and pocketed it. "Doesn't take courage to torture. Any fool can do it."

"And you're not a fool, is that right?"

"Not so far," she said. "But I bested you once and I can do it again, and if I start to think you're a threat to Connor or to any of my friends, I might start feeling foolish. Understand?"

"Excuse me," Emily said. "_Who_ bested him?"

Abby turned on her. "I'm trying to frighten the mercenary!"

"Yes, but you're always implying that _you're_ in charge! I did the difficult part!"

"The difficult part was sneaking up on him! Which you nearly ruined with melodrama!"

"Sorry, what was that? I'm afraid I still have gravel in my ears from rolling down the hill!"

Abby bit back a sarcastic reply when she realized their pursuer was laughing at them. So much for terrifying him into talking.

"Ladies, you're arguing over nothing," he said. "I'm not being paid enough for a fight- this time. If you wish no protection, you shall have none. I was only meant to keep an eye on you, and the meter's just run out. You're too much trouble."

Abby glared at him. "If you care so little, what were you doing outside my flat?"

"I haven't been outside your flat."

"You're lying. I saw you on the pavement."

Their pursuer grinned. "I haven't been there _yet_. You impress me, so I'll give you one for free: We meet again, Abby. Very soon for you, I think. I've been reliably informed of it."

Abby blinked, trying to work out whether he was mad or clever. It was then that Emily cleared her throat.

"I think he's telling the truth. Well, don't you see? Perhaps you need my experience with time, but- well, we're all time-travellers here. We're further ahead in his timeline, and apparently his friends are further ahead in ours."

Abby tried to wrap her mind around that. "So he knows our future and we know his?"

"Apparently, but none of the helpful bits."

"And you're not getting those from me," the mercenary said. "If you think there's nothing I can do to get free of this-"

"I think if you could have done, you'd be free already." Abby shook her head and rose. They couldn't spend all day here; they had to finish the painting, and hopefully link up with Connor and the others. She dropped a flat stone on the ground beside their pursuer. "I'm keeping your pack and your knife, but here's a lovely sharp rock. If I were you, I'd work my way out of that trap quickly. Smilodon tracks everywhere, and you still smell of blood. If you try to follow us, you will see me again, sooner than you'd like."

The mercenary laughed. "Oh, you're going to be fun. I look forward to our future, Abigail."

"Wouldn't if I were you."

"Can I at least have my hat back?"

_Men and their affectations._ Abby frowned, but nodded to Emily, who dropped the familiar slouch hat on the ground at their would-be pursuer's side. If he was telling the truth about the future, he'd have to be wearing it for her to recognise him.

While he worked his way free, Abby hurried out of sight with Emily at her side. It didn't occur to her until much later that he might have worn the hat because he _wanted_ to be recognised.

* * *

Asleep in her bedroom, one ocean and twelve thousand years away, Jennifer Lewis-Miller tossed and turned. Her husband Michael slept soundly beside her, a real testament to his grizzly bear-like hibernation skills. Jenny hadn't been so restless since they'd established a sleeping pattern, over a year ago. In fairness, the contents of her dreams were well worth losing sleep over...

She was dreaming of a woman who didn't exist, a woman called Claudia Brown whom she'd only seen in half a photograph, but who had come to loom over her life like no delusion in the history of the world. She was also dreaming of a man long dead, Professor Nick Cutter, shot years earlier by his ex-wife.

She dreamed of Claudia introducing herself to Nick with an unexpected kiss... of a second kiss, almost equally surprising, during an attack of airborne predators... of a final, desperate kiss before the end of the world- or at least, of Claudia's world. She dreamed all these moments and a thousand mundane ones in-between, friendships and annoyances, danger and dessert. In fact, Jenny Lewis dreamed an entire life she did not consciously remember, a life long-buried, now re-emerging in fragments for some unknown reason...

She woke with a start, fearing the reason might be simple. Jenny feared she was going insane.

Since clinical insanity seemed a depressing way to wake Michael, she stumbled out of bed and through the hall to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on and poured some cold cereal. She was halfway through a bowl when her husband made his appearance. They ate in silence- they'd spent a lot of time in silence, ever since the dreams began. Jenny had never had such a loud brain and such a quiet house in her whole life.

Just when she thought the morning was going to pass without any comment, Michael pushed his bowl aside and murmured, "She's not real, you know."

"I'm sorry?" Jenny said. "Who's not-"

"Jenny, please. Do you think I don't know who you're dreaming about? It's the same dream as always."

Jenny tried to sip her tea, but her hands were shaking so badly, she had to put down the cup or drench the tablecloth. She sought her husband's eyes, where normally there would be understanding- but all that was gone this morning; a kind of weariness had swallowed his once-boundless patience.

"I don't know why this is happening," she blurted. "It never did before. Until I saw the picture, I thought Claudia Brown was just a disturbed man's fantasy. The woman of _his_ dreams, not mine!"

Michael looked away. He tried, but he couldn't hide how much her phrasing upset him. "You did promise me. The one thing I asked before we married. You swore you were over him."

"I am!" Jenny hurried to take her husband's hands in hers. "I'm completely over him! It's not about that at all. It's just... lately I sometimes feel I'm not dreaming about Claudia Brown. She's dreaming about me."

Michael pulled his hands away. "And what does that make me? A phantom?"

"It makes you my husband! Dreams or none, I am not her! I'm not!" Jenny took a deep breath, fought back the trembling, and tried to regroup. "You know, this is probably nothing. Lots of stress at work, and some... _really_ traumatic memories from the ARC bubbling to the surface. It will pass, Michael. I promise."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, quietly, "Does your therapist think it will pass?"

Jenny looked away. He knew what that meant.

"You've been missing appointments again. Jenny, you _do_ want to deal with this, right?"

"Yes!" she snapped, turning on him. "Yes, I'd like very much to deal with this, if you could just please tell me how! How am I supposed to deal with this when I can't tell a therapist the whole truth about it? When the most incredible parts of the story are the only ones I'm certain are real?"

Michael didn't have an answer for that, so he pushed back his chair and started getting ready for work. Jenny cleared the table in silence; she anticipated silence that evening, as well. There came a point when it was better that way.

* * *

Christopher Newman woke with a start and sat bolt upright. His face was streaked with sweat, and his hands shook as he grasped the receiver of a persistently ringing telephone.

"Yes? Wake-up call? Thank you."

He was staying in a not-particularly-well-kept room of a not-particularly-reputable motel, a sparse space for a man with a sparse life. When he wasn't working, rooms like these were all he ever saw. Except in dreams, and even those were generally sort of monochrome. Until recently...

He struggled out of bed, splashed water on his face, and dressed. Dressing reminded him of the time in the Pleistocene, when Abby Maitland and her lovely assistant had stripped him down to his vest and left him for the predators. Good times. Actually, compared to his present experience, they didn't seem half-bad.

He pushed his hat down over his eyes and went out to forage for the morning paper and a cup of coffee. There was a mirror hanging in front of the door, and Newman stopped to stare into it.

"Another day," he muttered. "Just get through today._ She's not real_."

Several minutes later, he returned to the room with his paper, his coffee in a Styrofoam cup, and a paper bag containing a day-old scone. He tore into the pastry, but the coffee was strong and very foul, and he pitched most of it down the sink. He still hadn't gotten the taste out of his mouth when his mobile rang.

"Newman... what, another one? Right... yeah. Tell Matt Anderson I'll meet him in a couple of minutes... I just said so, didn't I? Tell him!"

He turned off the mobile. Jess Parker, the team coordinator, was concerned about him. Jess worried about the plight of everything that could possibly have a plight. Newman hadn't yet determined how to deal with someone so... optimistic. Profanity didn't seem to work; she just shrugged it off.

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself overlooking the Thames, where a strikingly serpentine creature kept poking its long neck out of the water to gape at tour boats, and occasionally threatened to capsize a smaller boat with the wake created by its diamond-shaped fins.

_Plesiosaur_, he recited in his mind. _Possibly_ Elasmosaurus._ Jurassic or Cretaceous reptile, up to fifteen metres long. Extremely powerful bite, versatile, just a beautiful marine predator..._

He found Matt Anderson and several of his fellows from the ARC on the banks of the river, loading two motorboats with supplies- including, Newman noted with a raised eyebrow, harpoon guns. Matt might be a sentimentalist, but he clearly believed in being prepared. He was also, as of this morning, unhappy. Both qualities seemed sensible to Newman.

The unhappiness increased when Matt noted his new colleague's approach. "Where have you been?"

"Finishing my scone." Newman pretended to notice the dinosaur. "Plesiosaur in the Thames, eh? I'd have thought you could handle one little Nessie without having your hand held."

"Get in the damn boat," Matt growled.

He wasn't in the mood for argument, so Newman boarded one of the boats with a couple of the ARC soldiers. Matt and several others boarded the second craft.

The motor kicked into operation, and they roared out to the middle of the river, following the plesiosaur's wake. Matt gestured for Newman's boat to go on ahead, while he circled around. Newman gave him a half-hearted wave that was an obscene gesture in spirit, if not in form.

Newman's boat crept up on the dark shape of the submerged plesiosaur; from the corner of his eye, he saw Matt's boat dodging and weaving around other small craft, which were in various degrees of panic...

_Steady. Steady. Wouldn't mind an easy catch this morning..._

"Watch out!" Matt called. "It's about to-"

The plesiosaur's long neck suddenly burst from the water and spiralled around, its jaws barely missing Newman, knocking him to the deck and one of his soldiers into the water. Newman hit his head-

_He's underwater, clutching a harpoon very like the one he's got now. He's got a limited supply of oxygen, and on his way to meet someone... or from meeting someone, the memories are confused. A person long lost... but there's a creature in the water with him. A long-necked Mososaur, terrifyingly fast..._

Newman gasped, lost in the memory. He grabbed up the harpoon gun, intent on defending himself...

"Newman!" Matt called. "Put it down! What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?"

The plesiosaur surfaced again, and Newman had a clear shot at it. He was shaking with rage and adrenaline. He didn't even know why he was so angry. The memory had been fraught with emotion. Something about... betrayal, fear, loneliness. He couldn't see his way clear of it...

Matt's boat roared past him, cutting between Newman and the plesiosaur, nearly swamping him and throwing off his aim. The plesiosaur submerged again; the remaining ARC soldier in Newman's boat tried to cut the engine, but Newman pushed him away and took over the motor himself...

Matt was shouting to the men in his boat; they came up alongside Newman's boat, and the team leader hastily crossed over. Newman didn't care; he was willing to shoot the plesiosaur through Matt, with slight but not overwhelming reluctance. He brought the harpoon up again, but Matt grabbed him by the collar.

"We don't kill these creatures unless absolutely necessary!"

Newman grinned. "That's sweet, sunshine. You're making me sentimental. Now, out of the way!"

He had the plesiosaur in his sights again. His hands tightened on the trigger- even as the mechanical whine of an EMD charge cycle sounded beside his right temple. Matt had his pistol levelled on Newman's head, at point-blank range. That wouldn't be very healthy.

"You shoot it," the team leader said calmly, "I shoot you."

He wasn't bluffing. If anything, he was holding back. Newman wondered if he could outdraw the other man; probably not, from this sort of disadvantage. Might be worth trying, anyway...

The plesiosaur swam out of range. Newman dropped his harpoon. _More's the pity..._

As Matt grabbed the harpoon away and lowered his own weapon, Newman laughed. He laughed as though some tremendous joke was being played by the Universe; which was as good an explanation as any other.

Matt Anderson was becoming quite a headache. He had no way of knowing, of course, that he was far from the worst headache ever inflicted upon Newman by a member of the ARC team...


	8. 604 Act One

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act One**

The world was made of golden light, and then it changed.

Connor Temple gasped for breath he hadn't exactly been holding. More accurately, he'd been temporarily trapped in the moment between breaths- trapped by his own machine, the time-bending device built on the same principle as the anomalies and travelling along the network of cracks in time they left behind. One moment he was in the 21st Century ARC, and the next...

He was in another place. A sunny place, rocky and unspoiled. Connor blinked a few times, taking in his surroundings: By all the visual evidence, they'd arrived in Southern California of the Late Pleistocene era, the same place Connor had misplaced his fiancée, Abby (who was secretly his wife already), and his protégée in geekdom, Emily...

Beside him, Captain Becker stirred, cleared his throat, rotated his shoulderz as though testing to see if his muscles still functioned.

"You know," he said, "I really didn't think that would work..."

Connor arched an eyebrow. "Would you have agreed to come if you'd known?"

"Best not to dwell on such things..."

_Right,_ Connor thought. The call of some giant bird distracted him, and he squinted up into a very blue sky...

"You really did this," Becker said. "Press a button, and we're in the Pleistocene. Just like that."

Connor shrugged. "Not too different from the way we usually travel."

"No, it is different. Anomalies are like... time choosing us for something. Now, we can choose our time on a whim." Becker was staring at him, uncomfortably focused. "I underestimated you, Connor. You might just be terrifying."

"I'll take that for a compliment," Connor said. He tried to laugh it off, but Becker's words unnerved him. Only one cure, and that was action. "Right now, I'm only terrified we might be too late to find Abby."

"Right," said Becker. He looked away, taking in the landscape. "Which way?"

That being an excellent question, Connor stopped to consider. "The time machine couldn't track their temporal signature, so they're not here, and they're not wearing coms. Jess said their- you know, evidence of them would be found in the La Brea Tar Pits. We head that way, I guess."

"All right," said Becker. "Where are the tar pits?"

Connor turned a full circle, studying the terrain. The mountains... the distant ocean... the tiny stream trickling through their little valley... "Ehhhhh... yup. Well..."

Becker sighed. "You don't know where we are, do you?"

"We're in North America. California... somewhere."

His friend arched an eyebrow. "That's quite a lot of ground to search, isn't it?"

"Yup," Connor sighed.

Becker rolled his eyes and slung the strap of his EMD rifle over his shoulder. "Right. Then we'd better get started..."

He set off through the valley, but Connor turned one more circle, unsure what he was looking for. Something he'd almost spotted on his first look, but his eye automatically passed over, not realizing how out of place it was in a prehistoric landscape...

_There._ A tiny bit of something, gleaming in the sunlight at the base of the mountain. _Metal!_

"Wait!" he called to Becker. Connor ran to the base of the mountain, picked up the bauble, and held it up to the light. "They went this way."

Becker frowned. "Are you sure?"

"_Really _sure," said Connor. "Let's go."

Grinning now, he tucked Abby's wedding ring into his pocket for safekeeping and led the way up into the mountains.

* * *

With the protection of their mercenary pursuer removed, Abby and Emily had to be more careful on the way back into the mountains. The cave lions would shortly return, which made it sort of unfortunate that the most important thing they had to do was in a borrowed cave. Abby was nearly done with her painting, which would leave the future team unmistakeable evidence of their location. Hopefully that would be enough to guide them to the right place, and their whole outing hadn't been a massive waste of time.

It was just before they re-entered the cave that Emily saw the gleaming eyes, hidden amongst the rocks. She motioned to Abby.

"Smilodon," the other woman said. "He must have followed us back- I told you to wash off the blood!"

"I _tried_! There was quite a lot of it." Emily frowned at the big cat, which still skulked some distance away. "Why doesn't he attack, then?"

"This is the lions' territory. He can smell them all around us; he'll be reluctant to approach. We might still get away with this." Abby tossed her the spear they'd borrowed from a group of early human hunters. "Stand guard. I'll be as quick as I can."

"Lovely," Emily murmured. But she didn't have a better plan, so she stood at the cave entrance, watching the sabre-toothed cat watch her, while Abby perfected her finger-painting. She was incredibly anxious, so she started rambling about anything that came into her head... thoughts about the future, about her relationship with Matt (such as it was), about her favourite film she'd viewed with Connor...

After a while, she fell silent. The Smilodon was creeping closer, no longer so concerned with hiding himself amongst the rocks.

"Er, Abby," she said, "I think he's losing his fear. We'd better be going soon."

"I'm almost finished!" Abby called.

_It's a cave painting! You don't have to sign it like a bloody Van Gogh!_ But Emily suppressed that sarcasm, as she'd suppressed so many things she really wanted to say in her home era, and tried to think of something more pleasant.

"What was I saying?" she murmured.

"I don't remember."

Emily frowned. "You don't remember, or you weren't paying attention?"

"Don't remember which."

Emily imagined she could hear the Smilodon growling- but no, it was still too far away. It was probably just the wind. She was completely unnerved, in any event. "Oh, I remember! It was something else about..."

"Don't say Star Wars," Abby sighed.

Emily frowned. She'd actually been about to make a rather clever observation about how the name 'Darth Vader' seemed to literally suggest 'Dark Father,' and yet nobody noticed what was right in front of their noses on first viewing. It was the sort of comment Connor would have appreciated, but Abby never had any patience...

"Just because it's about Star Wars doesn't make it stupid," she said.

"It makes it really likely. That's why I was trying not to pay attention."

Emily glanced back at her and scoffed. "Well, that's modern manners for you."

"Look, Emily, I'm sorry." Abby backed away from the cave painting, nodded to herself in satisfaction, and turned. "It's just that I've already done this for a whole year with Connor, and _he would not shut up_ about Star Wars and Doctor Who and... how do you think we finally got together? I kissed him to make him stop talking! And you're lovely. Really. But I'm not about to kiss you, so _shut it_!"

Emily's lip twitched. "Well, that's disappointing on any number of levels, but you know, I don't think I will 'shut it.' I've had more than enough of people telling me when to speak and how to act. The one good thing about having lost my entire world is that I don't have to put up with that sort of thing any longer! So if I want to prattle on for an hour about any little thing, I believe I will, and if Your Ladyship doesn't like it, I suggest-"

Abby took a step toward her. "What did you call me?"

"I'm sorry. Did I say 'Your Ladyship?' I meant 'Your Highness!' Queen Abigail the Blonde, her temper feared throughout the land!"

"Emily-"

But Emily had a head of steam built up and was in the process of venting two years of frustration. "Is she annoyed with Connor today? Is she jealous of him? Is she pouting because her lizard has the sniffles? The kingdom trembles!"

Abby sighed. "I was only trying to say-"

"You know, maybe people in my time had more backbone or maybe it's just that I'm not _male,_ but I am _so far_ from being impressed by your assortment of clever kick-boxing tricks-"

"Emily," Abby said, "_duck_!"

Emily whirled to see the Smilodon, suddenly a lot closer and just about to pounce. As it did, Abby pushed her to the ground and lashed out with a roundhouse kick, deflecting the predator's trajectory and sending it crashing into the cave wall.

Emily shook herself. "I stand corrected. That was quite good..."

"Run!"

As Emily scrambled from the cave, she suddenly realized the spear wasn't in her hands. She'd lost it when she was knocked down. Given the short range of the mercenary's knife, it was still their best protection...

She turned back, but the weapon was already in Abby's hands. The other woman jabbed at the Smilodon, trying to keep it at bay. She had no intention of using it; she was only looking for an opening to run, and for a moment, Emily thought she'd find it-

She missed her chance by a single heartbeat. Emily saw it happening, almost like a slow-motion scene from one of Connor's films. The Smilodon pounced as Abby turned to run. She whirled and held up the spear by instinct alone, with the predator's claws at her throat. The Smilodon impaled itself with a _yelp_ that would be audible for kilometres and crashed to the ground beside Abby...

Emily stared back into the cave in horror. Abby scuttled away from the Smilodon on her rear, trying to avoid the puddle of blood rapidly spreading from the dying animal, and Emily helped her stand.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Did you...?"

Abby watched the Smilodon's laboured breathing until she couldn't watch any longer, then turned away in a rush. "I'm fine. We have to go."

"What about the cave painting? Is it-"

"_It will have to do!_" Abby snapped. "I only needed another _second_! Dammit!"

"Abby, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I was tired and frustrated-"

Abby turned on her; it was difficult to say whether the tears in her eyes were borne of despair or fury, but there was plenty of both written in the lines of her face. Biting back whatever she intended to say, she started down the path at a fast walk; Emily didn't think she knew or cared where she was going.

"-and now I'll shut it," Emily said.

"Thanks."

Emily looked back into the cave; the Smilodon was dead already, it must have been stabbed directly through the heart, a massive fluke. She didn't think that would ease Abby's conscience. She didn't know if Abby could get her head together, and Emily greatly doubted she herself could survive in this era without her friend's help.

She followed Abby, if only to avoid whatever predators would be drawn to the new kill. As she slid and skidded down, kicking up clouds of dust, she wondered how long it would be before two more humans joined the Smilodon on the ash heap of natural selection...

* * *

On a slow day at her public-relations firm, Jenny Lewis looked first one way, then the other, and closed her office door. She sat in front of the computer and navigated to a search engine. For so long, she'd been afraid to do this- she didn't even want terms associated with the ARC in her browser history!- but she couldn't delay any longer, and her boss would probably be less upset than Michael if she was noticed...

She typed "CLAUDIA BROWN" into the search field. It returned a number of hits, none of them for the right person. Of course; she didn't even exist.

Jenny bit her lip and entered the term "NICK CUTTER." This produced an obituary, which omitted all the interesting things about Nick, consigning him to be remembered as some nondescript university professor; his time at the ARC had been before Convergence, before dinosaurs acquired a public image, and had never been declassified. There was a picture, which caused Jenny to avert her eyes.

Thinking more creatively, she tried "CREATURES, ARC." This produced a tabloid headline: "**Nessie in the Thames?**" and a blurry picture of what might be a genuine plesiosaur, with Matt Anderson in the foreground. Jenny smiled at the picture; she knew the look of frustration he wore all too well. But it wasn't precisely helpful.

Getting discouraged now, she thought she'd try just one more: a general search for "HISTORICAL ANOMALIES." This produced a science article; some anthropologist or something had discovered a new cave painting in the hills of California...

A painting of a pulsating anomaly, circled by a most familiar flying lizard. Jenny sat back in her chair and stared at the painting in fascination...

* * *

By coincidence, or perhaps not quite coincidence, at that very moment in the ARC, a young woman named Jess Parker stared at the very same picture as she toiled at an improvised work-station in the menagerie section. Transfixed by the screen, she reached blindly for the intercom to warn her boss.

"James, can you come down here for a moment? I think I've found something."

"I'm very busy, Jess," said James Lester's curt voice. "Actually, you come up here. There's something we ought to discuss."

"All right," said Jess. She backed away from the screen, wondering what it meant, and nearly got hit in the face by Rex, who was quite agitated with Abby and Connor both missing. He kept flying back and forth in a tizzy. She tossed the lizard a treat, which he snapped up in the air, and kept walking.

A minute later, she stepped through the door to Lester's office, to find Matt Anderson already there- and looking unhappy, as Matt looked customarily these days, particularly in Lester's presence. Jess hesitated, unsure she wanted to get in the middle of whatever they were quarrelling about, but Lester motioned her inside...

"It's bad enough I'm being kept out of the search for Emily!" Matt was saying. "At least I understood your reasons! But this is getting absurd. I either run the field team, or I don't!"

Lester frowned. "Do you really want to present it to me in the form of an ultimatum, Matt? I beg you, consider whether that's likely to end well."

"Look, Newman's becoming a problem! This is the second time he's gone daft on us! If he's got to be here and you can't tell me why, fine. But I'm keeping him on the sidelines until-"

"With whom will you replace him?" Lester asked. "Your entire team's in the Pleistocene."

"Without me!" Matt growled, which Jess suspected was the real crux of the issue. "Lester, whatever it is you hate me for, I haven't done it yet!"

"Yes, I do know the feeling," said Lester, cold even by his standards.

Matt turned away in frustration. Jess cleared her throat, hoping to provide a change of subject.

Lester was eager enough to take her up on it. "Yes, come in, Jess. Matt, will you tell Jess what you were telling me about your mission this morning?"

Matt sighed. "I don't think-"

"I'm sure she'll find it amusing. I certainly did."

Matt rolled his eyes. But he wasn't angry with Jess, so for her sake, he kept his tone civil. "We caught the plesiosaur- no thanks to Newman-" He glared at Lester under these words, but the other man pretended not to notice. "When we tried to return it to its time, there was... a problem."

"What sort of problem?" Jess asked.

"There were two anomalies. We tried to use Connor's dating calculator to sort out which was which, but... well, nobody knows how to use that thing except him. It seems we... botched it."

"And?"

"Sent the plesiosaur back to the 1930's."

Jess blinked a few times. "Isn't that about the time people first started sighting the...?"

"Yes," Matt sighed.

"Are you saying we..._ created_ the Loch Ness Monster?"

"Apparently."

Lester rubbed his hands together, displaying rare good humour. "You see? It never gets old!"

"But shouldn't we fix it?" Jess said. "Haven't we compromised the timeline?"

"How d'you know?" Matt said. "Connor's time-shift database was quiet. We might have been predestined to create the monster. Anyway, Nessie's not exactly a lethal threat, and we've got all we can handle running around after the_ dangerous_ anomalies."

"Which rather points out that we're short-handed at the moment," Lester said. "I've an appointment later that should bring in reinforcements for the field team, but bureaucracy only knows when we'll get them on the technical side. With Connor in the past and Jess monitoring for him-"

"I could get someone from the list," Jess suggested.

Matt frowned at her. "We have a replacement geek list?"

"Just some names Connor jotted down, in case anything ever happened to him." Jess shrugged. "Actually, there are only two names: Mine and one other."

"Get the other one in here," Lester said. Then he cocked his head to the side, like a spaniel trying to remember a command. "Did you want something?"

"Yes." Jess took a deep breath. "I think we've found evidence of Abby and Emily in the past. Someone made a cave painting of an anomaly. It's bigger than the others, and unmistakeable."

"Can we get that information to Connor?" Lester asked.

Jess started to pace the office, annoyed with herself. "I'm afraid not. I can only monitor the target area, and we can't communicate at all."

"You should send me back with it," Matt said immediately.

"Out of the question," said Lester.

"If Emily's in danger, I don't think anything's out of the question!"

"And that strikes you as a good idea?" the ARC's director countered. "Sending yet another mission into the past? Everyone in the Pleistocene, groping around blindly for each other? We need a more reliable method of communication."

That being an excellent point verging on the self-evident, Matt couldn't argue. Even Jess found herself nodding in agreement... until she realized both men were looking directly at her.

"Now, wait a minute!" Jess objected. "This is Connor's project; I barely understand it! You can't possibly expect _me_ to come up with something like..."

"You have forty-eight hours," Matt told her. "Then I'm going to look for Emily myself, and good luck trying to stop me."

He turned and walked out of the room. Jess appealed to Lester for help; but while the director might have been less agitated than Matt, he knew very well what they needed, and in the manner of leaders throughout history, expected to have it on time whether it was possible or not.

_Ours is not to reason why_, Jess quoted to herself, and wondered how she was going to break the time barrier in the next forty-eight hours...

* * *

At the end of a long day made even longer by the spectres hanging around her office, Jenny Lewis poured herself a drink and collapsed onto her sofa, hoping for a hot bath and a night of unbroken rest. If she could just avoid fighting with Michael tonight, and if she got no meddlesome callers...

And then the doorbell rang. Of course it did. Jenny sighed, put her glass of wine on a coaster, and went to the door.

Her worst nightmare waited outside. Well, actually her _worst_ nightmare was Helen Cutter, and her second-worst came in the form of a mutated bat from the future. Third-worst, probably the giant worms from the past. But having a knot of ARC soldiers standing around her doorstep, looking very official, was at _least_ fourth on the list.

A muscle-bound fellow in an ARC uniform nodded to her. "Jennifer Lewis?"

She sighed. "Actually, it's Lewis-Miller."

"Forgive me," said a familiar voice; the soldiers parted to permit the approach of James Lester- quite possibly, the last man in the history of creation she wished to encounter. And he said the last words she ever wanted to hear:

"Are you certain it's not Lewis-Miller-_Brown_?"


	9. 604 Act Two

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Two**

Exhausted, covered in dirt and grime, with a dozen small scrapes and bruises from more climbing than he'd ever done in his life, Connor leaned heavily on a rock outcropping outside a sad excuse for a cave and tried to remain optimistic. Actually, he'd passed optimistic around the time they saw their first cave lion. He'd also left behind calm and rational when they saw the dead hunters, and was trying desperately to hang onto "non-despairing."

Motion inside the cave. Connor automatically raised his EMD- but it was only Becker, who looked nearly as bad as Connor felt.

"Well?" Connor prompted.

The security captain shrugged. "Well... there's the remains of a fire in there. I think it's fresh. We're on the right track."

"Couldn't it have belonged to those unlucky hunters?"

"I doubt it. Remember that series of cave paintings flagged by your database back in the ARC? There's one on the wall inside."

Connor frowned. "The computer turned up a definite negative on those; said they were completely natural, no time-shift."

"New program," Becker said. "Perhaps you haven't worked all the bugs out."

"Maybe," Connor said, though privately he doubted it: The database program was actually just a database. It surfed the Internet and compiled new articles that didn't match the ones it had on file. It worked because its hard drive remained within the sphere of influence of the original time event- Connor had taken to calling it the Anomalous Zone, although he hadn't decided if that was cool enough to try on others yet- and thus its memory didn't change with any time-shifts. So if it turned up a wrong answer, either Connor's theory of time was all wrong, or someone was interfering with the program. Since it was actually Cutter's theory, and since he was walking around in the Pleistocene, Connor assumed it was the latter. Who could do that? Surely not himself again?

_No,_ he decided._ I'd want me to find her. No matter what, I wouldn't let it end like this... so maybe the paintings are just paintings, after all..._

"It would be an awfully big coincidence," said Becker, who seemed to sense his doubts if not his reasons. "Look, if it's not them, we've lost them. We might as well stay positive."

"Or at least non-despairing," Connor sighed. Ignoring the ache in his back, his joints, his- pretty much everything- he set off down another rocky path.

Becker hurried to join him. "Connor, if we're too- I mean, if we don't find them- can we go back and try again?"

"Eh... wouldn't recommend it." There was a small gap in his path; Connor hopped from one rock to the next and nearly fell. Becker, of course, made the leap perfectly. "What we just did was slice open a path through dozens of anomalies and stitch it up behind us- sort of like performing surgery on the timeline.

"Now, surgery's good, if you need something removed, like a time-traveller, or put back in, like a mammoth. But if you keep doing it, sooner or later you're just hacking at time with a scalpel..."

"All right," said Becker. "I think I see-"

"I mean, I'm working on it. With the data from these live trials, I can improve the stability. But right now it's sort of like flipping a coin. Just an ordinary coin- but if it comes up heads three times in a row, the Universe implodes. Flip it once or twice, there's no danger. Three times, only a little. Keep pressing your luck, and eventually-"

"It'll come up heads thrice," Becker said. "Yeah, I've got it, thanks. Connor... what I'm trying to ask..."

They approached a relatively stable ledge; Becker hauled himself up to it and extended a hand to help Connor. When they were on level ground again, crouched beside each other, Connor realised Becker had never finished his question; which made it pretty easy to guess what he was getting at.

"You're asking if I'd break the Universe for Abby?"

"No, you've answered that question already." Becker took a deep breath. "I'm asking if you realize... that I would have to stop you."

Connor slumped down on a large rock. Everything hurt; but somehow, when he looked up at Becker, he was laughing. "Yeah, I worked that out. That'll be sort of a depressing wedding, then; bride lost in the past, groom killed by the best man..."

"Connor, this isn't a joke!"

It was difficult to explain what happened to Connor next; he almost felt like all the work he'd done, all the fear and exertion, had stripped away the person he usually was, leaving behind a man with none of his flippancy or light-hearted nature. He was alone with the truth. Maybe he was experiencing the same thing that drove Cutter to the edge; maybe he was getting old before his time. He smiled at Becker.

"I know you'd stop me. Why do you think I wanted you here?" While the other was still grappling with that, Connor said, "The thing is, it's easy to reshape the Universe. When you've been everywhere we have, when you've done the work I've done... it's like a door unlocks in your mind. It's _basic_, and you can't unlearn it.

"And I'm not mad, I'm really not; I know it would be useless to save Abby and destroy the world. But if I have to spend the next fifty years thinking how I lost her, how it was _my_ fault, and I have the knowledge in my head to save her, any time I want... sooner or later, I'll make Helen Cutter look like a minor nuisance. I'll be like the Emperor to her Darth Vader."

"Okay," said Becker. "Star Wars references... not necessary. I take your point."

"I don't think you do," Connor said. "If we don't find them in the next couple of days, you should go back... and you should make sure I can't follow."

He slapped Becker on the back and stood. Every muscle protested; the last thing he wanted to do was push onward, but it was for Abby, so he did.

Becker was actually staring at him, a little stunned; by his expression, Connor's friend thought he was being unexpectedly brave; and perhaps he was, in the sense that he was willing to die to put things right. If Connor was correct in his hypothesis about what was happening, what could happen to the team in the future, changing it would be worth his life.

But it wasn't just about sacrificing himself. Connor hadn't sabotaged the time machine yet. If he remained in the past, then he would never sabotage it- and he would never travel back to the past to find Abby- so he would never remain there.

Paradox. The calculations were nearly impossible, but Connor thought there was a solid chance a paradox on that order would feed back into the time machine and destroy it, either resetting history or jolting it into some sort of stable compromise. There was also a solid chance it would feed back into the time machine, destroying the whole network of anomalies and who knew what else.

The risk was incredible, and Connor didn't think it would come to that. He hoped it wouldn't. But the last-ditch option remained, and in a strange sort of way, it comforted him.

Maybe that was another thing Connor had inherited from his mentor, who ran into a burning building after his ex-wife despite the danger: Whether it was the contest between Nick and Helen Cutter or a time-technology war against the people behind Southfield, some cycles were so dangerous they simply had to be ended, whatever the cost.

* * *

Jenny poured herself another drink with shaking hands, while Lester stepped inside, dismissed the soldiers, and closed the door behind him. The silence stretched out, well past awkward and verging on funereal.

"Apologies, Jenny. I'm stuck in my office most of the time, these days. I rarely get the chance to make an entrance."

"And a hell of an entrance it was!" Jenny drained the drink and set it down a little too hard before turning on him. "How could you? Throwing Claudia Brown in my face..."

Lester hesitated, which was as close to humility as he came. "It's possible I owe you an explanation..."

"Is it possible? Really, James? Well, that's so very good of you! Why don't you start with this: What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

Lester sighed. "Jenny..."

"I asked you, James- I _begged_ you to let me go! Never call me again! I thought you knew how difficult it was for me to leave; I suppose I should have known better!"

"Circumstances have changed," Lester said, unusually mild. "Believe me, I wish it were otherwise."

"Do you?" Jenny sighed. "This is the last thing I need right now. My marriage is- we're having problems."

"Because of your dreams?"

Jenny stared at her former boss; Lester was all but impossible to read, unless you'd known him for years. Then it was possible to detect a hint of concern behind those eyes- or not quite concern. Guilt.

Jenny charged out from behind the bar to confront him. "Do you know something? You do, don't you? You know Claudia Brown was real! You let me believe Nick was mad!"

"I thought he was." Lester spread his hands. "Believe me, when Cutter started rambling on about Claudia Brown, I thought he'd lost his senses. I'm still not convinced he hadn't. But... new evidence has since come to light..."

"'Certain evidence,'" she scoffed. "For me, it was a photograph..."

"I only run the ARC, Jenny," Lester said, still walking the tightrope between defensive and contrite. "From the beginning, the anomalies produced a number of side research projects, over which I had but little control. One of them, secretly conducted in a town called Southfield, came to focus on Claudia Brown.

"They'd uncovered conflicting hints that elements of the timeline were... not quite right. There had been some sort of change. No one knew what to make of it, or what could be done about it, so it was buried. I heard only rumours myself, until-"

"Until?" Jenny crossed her arms and waited. Lester looked away.

"Phillip Burton's files from Prospero are only now being decrypted. Apparently he provided the funding to reopen the project. He seems to have been quite interested in Claudia Brown, and his interest was encouraged by none other than-"

"Helen Cutter," Jenny breathed, as Nightmare #1 came home to roost. She staggered to her sofa and sat down heavily. Lester followed her, but remained standing. Her eyes burned with sudden tears; she had to dismiss them before continuing. "I cannot- _cannot_ get drawn into one of that cow's mad schemes. Not again, James. Not _ever_."

"I'm afraid you may have no choice," said Lester. "Like it or not, there is reason to believe you are- or Claudia is, if you prefer- at the centre of something."

Jenny frowned at him, suspicious. "How do you know that?"

"A little bird told me," Lester answered without blinking.

Jenny's held slumped back against the cushion. She wished she had another drink. Lester was still looming over her like an angry ghost- and she already had more than her share of those. Then, to her surprise, Lester sat down beside her with hands folded, turned, and spoke to her gently- almost like an old friend.

"Put that aside for the moment. Most of the team is... away, and the anomalies have inconsiderately persisted in their absence. We need help, and you're our most accomplished former operative- you've led the field team. No one else has experience like that."

"No one else _who's still alive_!" She laughed bitterly. "Oh, that's a_ fine_ selling point!"

"Come, Jenny." Lester's tone remained gentle, but his eyes were serious. "We both know there's only one selling point that matters: Come with me now. Help us in our hour of need. I promise you will learn the absolute truth, and never dream of Claudia Brown again."

Jenny looked across the room, at the empty wine glass and half-empty bottle on the bar. She could kick Lester out of her house- as he richly deserved- and have another drink. She might even get the quiet night she desired, if luck was with her. But nothing would really get better that way. Until she put Claudia Brown back in the past where she belonged, nothing ever would.

She looked back at Lester. He knew he had her; Jenny hated him a little for that. She hated herself a little more.

"You'd better have a really clever cover story prepared," she said to Lester. "Otherwise _you're_ telling Michael."

* * *

Getting clear of the cave lions' territory nearly chased Abby and Emily out of the mountains entirely; they spent that night in front of a small fire on high ground in the foothills, listening to the mammoths trumpet from the tar pits, entirely too close. Emily shivered as a dry wind swept in, nearly extinguishing the fire; considering Abby had barely spoken since the incident with the Smilodon, she didn't think a request to huddle together for warmth would be well-received.

The night closed in all around them; Emily couldn't see further than a metre around their little camp in any direction. Emily couldn't help imagining all the different creatures that could be silently creeping up on them. It took her less than ten seconds to tire of that game.

"Are you sure we're safe here?" she asked Abby.

"_Safe_ is a strong word," Abby said. She gestured vaguely in the direction of the tar pits. "We're out of the lions' territory, and there's huge, helpless prey right out there, making a lot of noise. Why bother with two small morsels?"

Emily nodded, accepting that. She stared off into darkness. "I wish we weren't so far afield."

"We waited near the cave painting all day. They didn't come. We couldn't stay in the lions' territory at night. Tomorrow we'll try again."

Something about that nagged at Emily, but for the moment she was more concerned about her friend. Abby's voice sounded... _off_ somehow, hollow. In the firelight, Emily could see her eyes, still bright with tears.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." A well-rehearsed answer, spoken by rote. Abby didn't even look at her.

"You did what you had to do, Abby. If that monster had been lunging at me, I'd have-"

Abby looked up sharply. "Wasn't a monster. Man's the only species that creates monsters. A creature like that is just... beautiful."

Emily didn't know what to say to that, so she fell silent. Abby looked so pitiable, sitting across the fire, hugging her knees and shivering, that she had to try again.

"Thank you for saving me, anyway. I am sorry for what I said." Emily hesitated. "I suppose I still feel... out of place, most of the time. That's why I had such fun getting to know you and Connor. You two are the heart of the ARC; being accepted by you made me feel at home."

Abby shrugged. "Look, forget it. I shouldn't have gotten cross with you. You can talk about anything you like. It's just... when you sound like Connor, you remind me of Connor... and that I might not see him, or anything else I love, ever again. I'm not ready to think about that."

Emily thought about that; in her mind, it connected neatly to the thing that had been nagging at her. "Abby... how well does Connor know you?"

The other woman laughed. "As well as anyone in the world, I guess."

"I'd have said the same thing. Isn't it surprising the first, smaller paintings we made didn't work, then?"

"I'd have bet they would. I'd have bet he could follow me anywhere." Abby frowned. "But you know Connor. Sometimes he needs a blinking neon sign."

Emily nodded. Then, carefully: "What if _he's_ not the one who needs the sign?"

"You think... the mercenary's friends kept it from working somehow? Kept us apart?" Abby wiped the tears away; at least Emily had succeeded in diverting her attention. "If that's true, the team could still be walking into a trap."

"Which is why I'm thinking," Emily said, "perhaps we've waited long enough for them to find us. Starting tomorrow, we should be looking for them."

"That's a big risk. I planned this route carefully- the safest ground I could find. If we start running around after each other, the odds of someone getting hurt go way up." Abby shuddered. "We're relatively secure here, and not just us: The more we have to defend ourselves, the greater the risk of more killing. Killing things in the past is a _really_ bad idea."

"But you said it yourself! This isn't real safety!" One of the mammoths called again, and Emily waved toward it. "We're caught in a trap. We can stand in place and call for help, but that's no way out!"

"There_ is _no way out," Abby said. "That's the trap. The more you fight, the further you sink."

"In that case, it's more my style to go down fighting, and I think yours, too."

Abby looked away; her confidence had been shaken by the incident with the Smilodon. Visibly defeated, she shook her head. "I just don't know..."

Emily decided to play her last card. "I know you'd like to retrieve that good-luck piece you left in the valley. It wasn't really a coin, was it?"

"No." Abby seemed to come to a decision, and met her eyes looking more like herself. "It was my wedding ring."

_Oh..._ Emily needed a moment to gather her thoughts after that, but strangely, the first thing that came to mind was annoyance: "And you just left it there?!"

"You were right. It wasn't worth dying."

"Well, I would have put up a bit of fight!"

Abby scoffed. "Sorry, that sounds a little odd... coming from you."

"All right," Emily sighed, "yes. My husband was a hateful, misogynistic fool, and I'm not the least bit sorry he's dead. But there was a time when I hoped he might be... you know... all right. If he'd been... if I'd found anything like what you've got..."

"You mean, if it were Matt's ring?" Abby suggested.

"...I wouldn't surrender it easily," Emily said, which answered the question without directly answering.

The other woman shrugged. "It was just a bit of jewellery. Not really a jewellery girl."

"I say we get it, and him. Double back, all the way to the valley if necessary. You know you want to."

"I don't-" Abby stopped. Maybe she was thinking over her time with Connor; maybe she just couldn't stand the thought of admitting she was afraid while Emily was brave. For the time time in days, her smile appeared genuine. "Tomorrow morning, first light?"

"Sounds good to me."

The decision made, Abby nodded with more conviction than she probably felt. "In that case, we should get some-"

_Snap._ They both froze at the sound of a broken branch. Abby reached slowly into her pocket for the knife she'd nicked from the mercenary. Emily peered into the darkness, but couldn't quite see. There were other sounds, too: Furtive, stealthy. Pebbles and gravel being dislodged. Emily felt her heart pounding in her throat, and forced herself to keep breathing...

Something stepped into the light. No- not something. _Someone._ A hunter-gatherer, possibly a relative of the early humans who'd encountered the cave lions earlier. He had friends, half a dozen at least, bearing spears and knives. They were surrounded.

Emily flashed back on one late night, watching a documentary on the science channel with Connor: A woman's bones found in the La Brea Tar Pits, possibly interred in some sort of burial ceremony. Suddenly, she wondered if it had been anyone she knew...

* * *

Connor and Becker stood side-by-side in another cave, shining their torches on an elaborate cave painting of an anomaly and a flying lizard. Connor shook his head; someday, when they'd been married for twenty or thirty years, he hoped Abby would love him as much as she loved that lizard. Although, maybe it was best to keep his goals more realistic... _half_ as much would do.

Becker looked more cautious. "There have been anomalies throughout history. Could it mean...?"

"With Rex in the picture?"

"...yeah, fair point. Well, I told you so. You owe me a tenner."

A sudden surge of adrenaline caused Connor to turn. This cave hadn't been empty when they found it; the picked-over bones of a Smilodon lay at the entrance, run through with a spear. The predators had pretty well had their way with it...

"No sign of human remains," Becker said, which helped only a little. "Looks like they might have killed this, then left in a hurry. It's definitely recent."

"Yeah," Connor agreed. His mouth felt dry when he tried to produce words. "Doesn't it make you wonder, though?"

"Why there's so little left of it?" Becker said. "Yes. Yes, it does. That's why I'm trying really hard not to turn around right now..."

Something rose up in the light from the torches- the shadow of something huge and heavyset, rising up on two legs. Unmistakeably the silhouette of an enormous bear. Its deep, throaty growl shook Connor to his bones. And then it advanced on them...


	10. 604 Act Three

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Three**

When facing a difficult problem, Nick Cutter had always advised his protégé to seek a new perspective on the matter; to look at things from another angle. Of course, when he said it, he probably didn't mean the dizzily spinning upside-down angle of flying through the air, but Connor had to admit, it did change his outlook. Worrying about plain old danger to life and limb was positively refreshing after weeks of worrying about the fate of humanity.

And then, of course, he landed. He skidded across the rocks outside the cave and to the edge of a drop; there was a ledge below, but Connor couldn't see how far down it was. In the dark, it looked like a treacherous leap to a none-too-stable landing place. He wasn't sure which bothered him more, the heights or the bear. Then he heard the bear growling again, scuffling with Becker inside the cave, and he knew.

"Er, Connor?" his friend's voice echoed from the cave. "A little help in here, please?"

"Eh... yup," Connor said. "Coming. Soon as I locate me legs..."

The sounds from the cave became ever more worrisome as he pulled himself to hands and knees. Something went _thud_, then _crash_, then_ crunch_. For a second, he feared for Becker's life.

"Connor, it's not too much trouble, I'd rather like to borrow your EMD!"

He frowned. "What happened to yours?"

A moment later, Becker came tumbling out of cave- out of control and backward. He slid to a stop beside Connor, shook himself, and looked around blearily.

"Not completely sure. I think he ate it."

A moment later, the huge bear followed Becker out of the cave- black and shaggy in the darkness, but Connor found one of the torches on the ground beside them and turned it in the proper direction, revealing a luxuriant brown coat and a powerful frame that drew up to its hind legs for another echoing roar.

"_Arctodus_," he told Becker. "The short-faced bear. The largest land predator on the world now, weighs over a thousand kilograms. A regular killing machine. Isn't it beautiful?"

Becker frowned at him, then the bear, then at him again. "Sorry, what?"

"Oh." Connor blinked. "That's just what Cutter used to say whenever we met something_ really_ deadly. Raptors were beautiful, Smilodon was beautiful. Abby does it, too. To tell you the truth, I think it's a bit mental."

Becker rolled his eyes, then noticed the ledge below them and studied it for a long moment. "I think we can make that. Tactical retreat?"

"Maybe _you_ can make that, Special Forces. I don't do really well with heights or jumping or- anything athletic or coordinated. Oh, also: _I'm not Butch Cassidy and you're not the Sundance Kid_!"

"For the record, _I_ would be Butch," said Becker. As the bear dropped to all fours, he started scrambling around in the dirt. "If we can't run, we have to fight. Where's your EMD?"

"Eh... good question. I know I saw it when I was upside-down..."

"Well, help me look for it! Don't just stand there!"

Connor shone his torch down into the drop. "Not sure there's any other place to stand..."

The bear advanced on them. Becker pointed at something on the the edge of the cliff- a dusty, battered assemblage of metal and plastic. "There! Hurry up and shoot it!"

Connor dropped his torch and fumbled for the weapon, but the proximity of the edge distracted him, and he nearly dropped it overboard. When he finally got himself together, his hasty shots went wide. The annoyed bear quickened its pace, charging them.

"Shoot it better!" Becker snapped.

"I'm trying! It's dark, and he's a very difficult target!"

"He's the size of a bloody bus! Here, give it to- ah, never mind. Too late. Hang on!"

"Hang on to...?"

Connor didn't get the chance to finish his question. With the bear a heartbeat away, Becker pushed him off the edge and jumped down after him. Connor glimpsed the bear somewhere above, growling over its lost prey, and Becker tumbling downward with him, bouncing off the rocks and screaming-

He had only a second to process this new perspective before the ledge rose up and slammed into him. Connor felt a tremendous, heavy shock, and was unconscious before the pain had a chance to register. It was probably the first stroke of luck he'd had in a week.

* * *

Abby looked from one of the hunters to the next, wondering which would be the easiest to surprise and knock down, if she and Emily had to escape in a hurry. They all looked pretty formidable, and they were clearly suspicious of the strange women in unorthodox clothing who'd appeared in their midst. Separated from Abby by a gulf of twelve or thirteen thousand years, they appeared strange and dangerous and hostile; she could only guess how she appeared to them.

She wished she could talk to Sarah Page for a minute; her own expertise only extended to creatures. Sarah knew about ancient peoples; she might have known how to communicate with them, how to appear non-threatening. Without that expertise, Abby could only guess at what they wanted, and none of the possibilities that occurred to her were good.

"What were you saying," Emily murmured, "about man being the real monster?"

Abby hissed. "Don't make any sudden moves."

"Er... yes. By any chance, does running count as a...?"

"Yes."

Emily shrugged. "Well, there goes my plan. I hope you have a better."

The lead hunter stepped forward and jabbed at Abby with his spear. The stone tip didn't draw blood through her clothing, but it would be sharp enough to do damage if he was serious enough. The second time he poked her, Abby grabbed the tip of the spear and pushed it aside.

"You'll want to be careful with that," she told the ancient hunter.

Emily glared at her. "Abby, don't antagonise them!"

Abby shrugged. "They don't actually speak English. Perhaps you should talk to _them_ about Star Wars."

"Laugh if you will," Emily said, "but judging by _Return of the Jedi_, they're about two minutes from hauling us back to their bonfire- and neither of us is a golden goddess."

"Speak for yourself," Abby said, and tossed her hair.

Which... might have been a mistake. The hunter's eyes flashed when she drew his attention in that direction. He was probably unnerved: Abby's hair wasn't just yellow- it was platinum blonde, with neatly trimmed bangs. It was _modern,_ like nothing he'd ever seen before. Judging by the way he jabbed his finger at her and shouted, this particular gentleman did not prefer blondes.

"I told you not to antagonise them!" Emily whispered.

Abby turned on her. "What do you want me to do? Stop being_ blonde_?"

"True, I suppose it takes longer than a week for bleach to grow out..."

"Oi!" she said. "That was unprovoked!"

Arguing with Emily was mistake number two. When Abby got agitated, so did the hunter. He grabbed her arm and pulled her off-balance- and Abby reacted automatically, with a scissor kick that caught his windpipe and dropped him neatly to the ground. Which did nothing to endear her to his fellows.

"Oh, well done!" Emily said as the hunters closed in around them.

"I _told_ him hands off! I thought that was clear!"

One of the hunters seized Emily from behind; she landed an elbow in his stomach and slipped out of his grasp, but another one grabbed her arm.

Abby pulled out the mercenary's stolen knife and used it to hold a couple of them at bay, but a spear slipped in past her guard and cut her cheek. She lashed out with a scissor kick and levelled the one who did it, but they were still outnumbered five to one...

Emily managed to pull away from the hunter holding her, but ran headlong into a rock in the fist of another and fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Emily!"

The other woman murmured and groaned; her scalp was bleeding, but Abby couldn't see how badly in the flickering firelight. She tried to get to Emily, but two hunters got in-between them. One tried to grab her, but she sidestepped and slashed him with the knife; he stumbled backward, more surprised and angry than hurt.

The four remaining hunters converged on Abby. At least she'd managed to cut through the miscommunication: _Now_ their intentions were perfectly clear. Abby made a bet with herself that she could take at least two of them with her, and liked her odds...

Before they could seize her, something lit up the night: Multiple EMD bolts, fired into the sky from somewhere in the hills. The sight, and sound, were familiar to Abby, but must have seemed to the hunters like a sudden lightning storm. When they looked up in surprise, two bolts of lightning dropped one of their number to the ground. The others turned and ran, dragging their wounded comrades along with them.

Abby ran to Emily; she was still breathing. She probably had a concussion, but it looked like the hunter had struck her a glancing blow, rather than the full-on blow Abby had feared. When she was reasonably confident her friend's condition was nothing permanent, she sat back on her haunches and tried to find the source of the EMD bolts.

"Connor?" she called. "Becker? Is that-"

Someone stepped out of the darkness; Abby recognised a weary-looking Matt Anderson and ran to him, nearly knocking him down with a hug. Matt didn't really hug her back, but that was Matt: always very solid and serious.

"Good timing," Abby murmured. "I really thought we were done for, that time. Where's Connor? Is he with you? Don't worry about Emily, she'll be-"

To her surprise, Matt grabbed her arms nearly as roughly as the hunters had done and pushed her away. He stared at her, studying her face like a foreign thing. The longer Abby stared back, the more she wondered if he was Matt at all; his face was a perfect likeness, but... harder, wearier, devoid of some spark of compassion previously to be found in the eyes.

_Older,_ Abby realized. _He looks older somehow..._

Matt smiled, the expression strange on his subtly altered face. "Hello, Abby. It's been a long time..."

* * *

After a few hours of monitoring for the team in the past, Jess Parker ran up to Control and checked in on the Hub, just to make certain it was running smoothly. She did this several times a day, much to the relief coordinator's annoyance. She was fairly sure he was plotting against her; that was why she often found used chewing gum on her chair. But there was no anomaly and no sign of anything that demanded her attention, so she returned to the menagerie.

She found the door open when she returned, and peered inside the menagerie. Chris Newman, the new team member, was sitting in her improvised station and staring at the anomaly painting, while Sid and Nancy tried to get his attention by chewing on his familiar slouch hat, which he'd left on the work table beside him.

"Shoo," he murmured, and pushed one of them away, more gently than he might have.

Jess thought she might have been the first person to see him in a contemplative moment. When he wasn't angry or sarcastic, when he wasn't trying to impress anyone, he looked very different. She read weariness and a certain distant regret in the lines of his weathered face...

Which did not excuse him intruding on her workspace. Jess cleared her throat; he turned sharply, perpetually ready for trouble, and scrunched up his face in annoyance when he saw who it was. He frowned at Jess and pushed his hat back onto his head.

"Can I help you with something?"

Jess took a step into the menagerie. "You can tell me what you think you're doing in here."

"Reading," he said. "Is that a problem?"

"No, but you could pick a better place. This equipment is delicate. We're trying to-"

"Communicate with the past, yeah. Break the time barrier." Newman grunted. "It's a fool's errand."

Jess only smiled. "The impossible is our business, Mr. Newman. We've done it many times before."

"You've been lucky. If any of you were _genuine _scientists, instead of mad renegades-"

He wasn't just grousing; he almost seemed _offended_. Jess narrowed her eyes at him. "Sorry, I thought you were Secret Agent Man. What do you know about science?"

"More than a little." Newman leaned back in his chair- really_ her _chair- and showed a real smile, rather than his customary smirk. "I loved science as a boy, but my dad was a military man. He pushed me in another direction."

"I wanted to be a ballerina, but you don't see me standing _en pointe_." Jess shooed him away from her station; Newman complied mildly enough. She checked to see that nothing was out of order and sighed. "All right, you're fine. Just... don't touch anything else, please. I need this to work properly. My friends are counting are me."

"You care about them," Newman observed.

"Yes, of course."

"You shouldn't." He looked like he'd bit into a sour lemon. "Shouldn't get close to people. It distracts you, makes you sloppy."

"It makes you care," Jess said. "That can feel like weakness, but it's not. It's being more alive."

"Bah," said the mercenary; he waved away Jess's concern as he moved toward the door. "If the computer genius bit doesn't work out, you could write greeting cards. But you're still young; you'll learn the danger of sentiment, soon enough."

"Is that what your father told you?" Jess said. The mercenary turned; she'd hit home with that one. "Look, whatever you think of us, you're part of the team now. If you ever want to talk... we're here, that's all. I'm here."

By the look on his face, Newman didn't know what to make of that. He didn't get much time to puzzle it out before the door opened again, admitting a portly, awkward young man with thick eyeglasses. Abby thought Harry Potter might have taken a bad turn in his later years, until the fellow cleared his throat.

"Eh... excuse me. Are you Miss Parker? I was told Miss Parker would be down here. I'm supposed to report to her."

"That's me," Jess said, as something clicked. "Oh, you're Connor's friend! Come on in! Call me Jess, and you must be-"

"Duncan!" he said, shaking her hand for a moment too long. "I'm- I'm Duncan. I suppose. I'm sort of an unofficial ally of the ARC. Never been actually... called up before. Bit of a shock. Still wish I hadn't been sick on that soldier's boots."

Newman rolled his eyes at the strange newcomer. "I'll let you two get acquainted..."

He walked out, leaving Jess to guide Duncan over to the station that had been so recently hijacked. He shrugged out of his coat, meanwhile staring at Jess, at the computers, and then...

"Excuse me," he said. "Are those sort of weaselly rabbit things diictodons?"

"I just called them 'the weaselly rabbit things.'" Jess smirked. "They'll answer to Sid and Nancy. And if you'll look to your right, you'll see they're not the ones to worry about."

Duncan turned in the direction she'd indicated and nearly jumped out of his skin. Jess felt a bit sorry for him. The full menagerie was quite a lot to spring on a newcomer all at once, even one who supposedly knew what to expect. He spent a good deal of time staring at their Kaprosuchus- as well he might, given what was in his file- and then did a double-take when he realized the raptor pen was right next to it. One of the predators stared at Duncan from maybe two metres away, cold and unblinking, and he whimpered.

He turned back to Jess, very slowly. "So this is- you are- it's all-"

"Yes," Jess said. "You should have seen it before the mammoth went home."

"Er... yeah. Excuse me, is there a toilet down here? I'm feeling a bit-"

"No, no!" Jess took his arm and guided him back toward the computers. "No time for that! There's no need to be nervous, Duncan. I'll be doing most of the work. I just need you to monitor the equipment."

"Right, you're trying to establish communication through a temporal rift in the past. What you need is a way to boost your signal across what's got to be a closed timelike curve." Jess blinked at Duncan a few times, and he shrugged. "They explained some things in the car. And I watch a lot of _Star Trek_."

Jess pulled up a chair for him and grinned. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"Thanks." Duncan glanced at her as he settled in front of the screen. "You know, you're even hotter than the blonde. I suppose you're... you know, seeing someone?"

"Yes," Jess said, "and he could easily murder you."

"That's all right. Most blokes could." Duncan frowned. "Haven't got anything to eat, then? I'm not used to skipping lunch..."

Jess stood back, trying to decide whether the newcomer was brilliant or an idiot. Then she recalled he was filling in for Connor, and decided he could easily be both. Once he got rolling on the time machine, though, he had some surprisingly good ideas. Jess ordered lunch in and reminded herself that if books could be judged by their covers, practically no one at the ARC would have a job...

* * *

Matt Anderson was brooding over the Hub- his new favourite location, since he'd been cut from the mission to save Emily- when the doors opened, admitting James Lester and an attractive woman Matt thought he'd met somewhere...

The face clicked._ Oh, no. No, he wouldn't. Gideon warned me about her. It's dangerous for the ARC to go anywhere_ near _her. What the hell is Lester thinking- _she_ can be part of this, and I can't?_

"Ah," said Lester to his guest. "Here's the man himself. Jenny, I believe you know Matt Anderson."

"Yes, of course," said Jenny, extending her hand. "You were at my wedding."

"Hello," Matt said, in lieu of _You blasted idiot, are you_ trying _to bring about the end?_

But none of this was the fault of Jenny Lewis, a perfectly reasonable and pleasant woman who couldn't help the snare in time that had formed around her, and seemed like the only person involved with the ARC with the sense to know how deadly it was. Matt felt guilty about the awkward silence that ensured, until Lester cleared his throat.

"Jenny has graciously agreed to loan the ARC her services for the duration of the crisis."

Matt grunted. "What's that famous line from the film?"

Jenny caught on immediately and laughed. "_Just when I thought I was out..._"

"That's the one. My condolences."

"James and I haven't actually discussed the terms of my _temporary_ visit. We will do, very soon." Jenny looked around at the Hub and frowned. "I'm surprised you're not in the past with the others. You struck me as a man of action."

"I'm surprised myself," Matt grumbled.

Lester said, "Certain operational realities require keeping Matt here with us for now."

"_Operational realities_, my-"

The door opened again, cutting off further argument. Matt supposed it was just as well; he'd spent too much time arguing with Lester lately. Talking wasn't getting them anywhere. Something had to be done... and speaking of the person to whom it ought to be done, enter Newman.

"I just met our new mascot," Newman said. "I hope Jess can keep him from soiling the carpets..."

Matt blinked; he'd never actually heard Newman refer to anyone at the ARC by given name, without nicknames or apparent sarcasm. But the moment quickly passed as Newman spotted Jenny Lewis- and froze.

_He knows about her,_ Matt thought. _Somehow, he knows who she was. That's not good..._

Lester apparently didn't notice. "Ah, the latest member of the team. Christopher Newman, have you met...?"

"No!" said Newman quickly. "No, I've never seen that woman in my life. Never."

_...and curiouser_, Matt thought. With his past, Newman ought to be better at hiding his reactions. He seemed genuinely astonished beyond words, so much that it shattered whatever training he possessed.

This stymied Jenny for a moment, but she charged ahead. "Well, that's mutual, then. Jennifer Lewis-Miller, former ARC employee."

"If you say so."

"I do say so, in fact." Jenny tried a smile. "Believe me, if I were going to make something up, it would be a good deal more pleasant."

"Yes, of course. I've got to go..."

Newman back away without shaking her hand. Jenny turned to the others and shrugged.

"I don't know what it is about this place; I have the oddest introductions here..."

Before Matt could think of bringing the subject out into the open- before Newman could make good his escape- the alarms began to blare. The relief coordinator at the Hub went to work, zeroing in on the source of the latest disturbance. Matt found it before he did- some time after Jess would have- and groaned.

"Anomaly in the Underground. That should be fun. Think you remember how to do this, Jenny?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Matt started moving toward the door; a soldier presented him with a couple of EMD's. He took one and tossed another to Jenny, then corralled Newman by the scruff of the neck on the way out.

"That means you, too."

"Oh," said the mercenary, "good..."

Newman continued staring at Jenny Lewis when he thought she wasn't looking. When he saw Matt noticing, he quickly turned away. Matt bit his lip; first round up dinosaurs, then correct timeline, then solve mysteries. Standard operating procedure at the ARC. He just wished he could shake the feeling that nothing about their present situation was standard in any way...


	11. 604 Act Four

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Four**

The older version of Matt Anderson crouched beside an unconscious Emily, studying her face in the firelight. If Abby hadn't already thought he was from the future, she would have been convinced by the way he looked at his love: as though he hadn't seen her in a thousand years. Carefully, he reached out and brushed a lock of dair hair away from her forehead, revealing the gash Abby had treated as best she could with the first-aid kit in the mercenary's pack.

Future-Matt looked away. "It's strange, you know. I've been here so many times. Every time, I think I'm prepared for how beautiful she was. She takes my breath away, every time."

"You might try telling her that sometime when she's conscious," Abby said. Although, thinking back on her own track record of only saying the important things at the most dire moments, she knew precisely how Matt felt. Then she processed the rest of his statement. "_So many times?_ Connor said it would be dangerous to-"

"Travel more than once or twice to the same time and place, yeah. He'll work that out soon, probably with the data from this little jaunt. However it happens, it's always unfortunate."

Abby frowned. ""Why?"

Future-Matt sighed. He looked up at her, appearing ancient and tired. "Because... that's when he realises how easy time travel really is. And that's one of the ways it can end."

"But you _started_ Connor on this path!" Abby protested. "He doesn't want to do it! All you have to do is tell him to stop!"

"I wish I could. But that's the trouble, you see. It doesn't get any better that way.." The mammoths started calling again, and Future-Matt looked off into the distance as though he empathised with their trapped, desperate sounds. "It's been a long time for me, but as best I can remember... the first time we did this, the original timeline... life continued as usual for two, maybe three months from where you are now. We spent those months learning about Southfield, how far ahead of us they were with the anomalies, and how little they could be trusted to manage them responsibly. Connor set to work on something that might help us stop them... but very quickly, it became apparent they would spiral out of control."

He shook his head, remembering. "Helen Cutter had a lot of plans, Abby. Plans within plans. We think... when Philip Burton and his New Dawn didn't work out, her Plan B- or maybe Plan C or D- became the next threat to the timeline. That plague Southfield created... all it would have to do is get through one little anomaly to the past, and it could wipe out not only us, but all other life on Earth. A future of group-mind zombies that'd make you pine for the future predators. We had to act before that became inevitable. But their operation stretches across the world; there wasn't time to shut them down. We decided one of us had to be outside the timeline, so he'd be unaffected by whatever changes they wrought."

The last piece fell into place, and Abby snapped her fingers. "You're like the triceratops we met... stuck in some sort of time loop."

Future-Matt nodded. "A loop created by Connor, designed to give me time to work out the solution. The only trouble is, I haven't come across it yet. If I do nothing, the plague comes. I've seen it, Abby. If I try to interfere... Southfield still wins. We lose everything, just more slowly."

"But couldn't you just go back to five or ten years ago and stop Southfield before they start?"

"You'd think." He shook his head. "There's a problem of paradox. Connor could explain this better, but basically... I can't stop them directly. Anything I do myself to stop them, or you do on my orders, causes a paradox. It couldn't have happened unless I went back, but if it doesn't happen, I don't go back. I've seen the world end that way, too. I've seen time itself ripped apart, oh... very often."

Abby knelt beside him and took his hand, concerned for the weariness and desolation in his voice. "Matt... how long have you been doing this?"

"I've no idea," he laughed. "All I do now is deal in time, and I've no idea how much has passed. Could be a thousand years, from your perspective. I know I've tried a million combinations, watched everything end a million times. All I can do is influence, you see... if I can influence you to do something you _might_ have done, time sort of... works around that. Nature finds a way to heal itself of the damage we've done. I just have to get you to make the right choices.

"There's a path, you see... I know there's a path, maybe just one out of billions. Very specific actions I've got to bring about. To make it happen, to prevent the things I've seen, I'll do anything it takes. I'll play the team against each other: Send myself back, cause Lester to hate me, cause Becker to... it doesn't matter. The fact is, none of it matters."

He seemed to be squeezing Abby's hand very hard; she withdrew it, afraid to ask the next obvious question. "Why is that?"

"Because," Future-Matt said, "you always fail."

It took Abby a moment to realise why he stared at her so- he wasn't talking about the team failing. He meant just_ her_. He held Abby personally responsible.

"But... me?" she stammered. "I don't- why _me_?"

"Because you could have prevented it!" Future-Matt leaped to his feet, nearly knocking over Abby with his sudden burst of energy. "You, Abigail Maitland, of all human beings on Earth! You'll stand at the crossroads of all history, and you'll have a chance to save us all! _You'll make the wrong choice_!"

"How can I? I'm a zoo-keeper, Matt! I only care about the creatures! This time stuff is all rubbish to me! How could_ I_ possibly be responsible?"

She watched as, with visible effort, the future version of Matt reined himself in. It was really remarkable to witness; he went from a raving madman to Abby's colleague and friend by force of will. In that moment, she understood the toll his travels through time had taken- and that only someone with Matt's strict training and lifetime of discipline could have kept his mind together so well.

"I'm taking a risk by telling you this much," he said. "It's possible we'll paradox again, but I don't see another way. Nothing else works, Abby. Maybe this won't work, either. But... look. There's a moment coming. I don't have to tell you when, you'll know it. You'll have a chance to save us... and out of compassion, that damned mercy-to-all-living-things compassion, you'll fail._ Every time_, you choose to save someone you love instead."

"Connor," Abby said automatically. "You can't be telling me I have to sacrifice _him_!"

"Oh, darlin'," Future-Matt said, laughing now, the borderline madman back in control. "If only it were that simple. No, I'm afraid he dies, and you get to watch. So there's that to look forward to."

Now Abby leaped to her feet, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. She kept her temper because it was Matt, and then just barely. "Is this some sort of game to you? I'm _really_ not amused."

"Not a game. More like... a puzzle I've been working for avery long time." Future-Matt's face fell; the calm reasserted itself. "And I'm sorry, Abby. I'm starting to forget myself; I didn't mean to say it like that. When you kick me, stay away from the throat, eh? That really hurts."

Stunned, angry, Abby forced herself to breathe normally. Her fists unclenched. "I'm not going to kick you."

"Thanks for the effort, but I told you: I've done this before. You _always_ kick me."

"He's not going to die," Abby said. "I won't let that happen."

Future-Matt shook his head. "You say that, but when the moment comes-"

"I won't! How can you think I'd-" Abby caught herself, tried to reason. "Listen to me, Matt. I'm very sorry for all you've seen. I don't doubt you've seen _a_ future; maybe a lot of them. But none of them are mine. I don't have a destiny. I can do what I like, and I will _never_ let that happen."

"Abby..." he said, more in sadness than in anger.

"You've been interfering with nature so long, you've become like Helen. You've lost all perspective. Cutter warned us about this!"

Future-Matt took a sudden, angry step toward her. "Abby, if I get just one thing through your head, let it be this: _There is no Cutter!_ He's dead and gone, and you and Connor have to stop trying to be what he wanted! It's all on you now, Abby. No Cutter. No Danny. Just you. _You'll have to make the hard call_. If you don't, I swear to you, Connor will bleed to death in your arms, and he'll be one of the lucky ones! All because you wouldn't _grow up_ and take responsibility for-"

Abby didn't even realise she was moving. She planted, whipped around, and landed a kick solidly against the Future-Matt's throat. Anything to make him stop talking. He scuffled on the ground for a moment, struggling to breathe. Then he coughed out a mouthful of bloody spittle and smiled at her.

"Well, that hurt."

"It was meant to," Abby said.

"I'm not trying to mock you, Abby," Future-Matt said, in a voice made gravely from the blow she'd landed. "I'm trying to save you."

"You want to save us?" Abby held out her hand. "Give me that EMD of yours. That's concrete. It's real; we can use it. We don't need dire predictions from the future."

Future-Matt looked at the EMD now lying on the ground beside him, shrugged, and handed it to Abby butt-first. Perhaps he assumed he'd get it back, next time through the loop. Perhaps he'd done so before. He did seem slightly surprised when Abby turned it around and pointed it at him; she dared hope that was new.

"Do you really think I'm a threat?"

Abby shrugged. "This is just a warning. I never want to see you again. Not this way."

"Don't worry," Future-Matt said, "you won't. There's not enough time."

Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation that caused the madman to take control for a moment, but he started to laugh- a harsh, bitter sound now, with a manic edge- and kept laughing as he was swallowed up in golden light and faded away.

Abby stood in place, aiming the EMD at nothing, clutching hard this piece of tangible evidence that the surreal conversation had actually happened.

After a moment, she heard something else: Emily on the ground beside her, groaning as she stirred. "...Abby? What happened?"

"It's a really long story." Abby put down the EMD and crouched beside her, smoothing her hair as the future version of Matt had done. "Everything's all right now. I hope..."

Emily smiled; she clearly thought Abby was being bland and reassuring for her benefit, and wasn't very good at it. In fact, Abby was doing it for her own sake. She and Connor had worked too hard to get to the start of their life together; she had no intention of losing it without a fight. She desperately wanted to believe everything she'd said to Matt, and none of the things he'd said to her.

The trouble was, deep down, she believed them both, and she had no idea where that left her.

* * *

Becker came around slowly, with a pounding skull and pain in every centimetre of his body. He blinked a couple of times; it was really _bright_. Morning had arrived. But how many people did it smile upon...?

"Connor?" he murmured, gathering his strength to pick himself up off the rocky ledge. "Connor Temple? Still with me?"

Something groaned, a little distance away. Becker breathed a sigh of relief. He turned his head about as much as his sore neck would allow; Connor lay at the very edge of the ledge, one of his arms hanging _over_ it, out into nothing. Becker hoped he wouldn't move too-

"Whoa!" Connor yelped, as his own eyes came into focus. He sat bolt upright and scurried back from the edge.

_–suddenly_, Becker finished his thought. _Well, all's well that ends well..._

Becker moaned, rubbed the back of his head, and managed to sit up himself. He turned to Connor and laughed.

"Let's not do that again."

"You were right about one thing." Connor shrugged. "It's been a hell of a party."

"I dunno." Becker ran down a mental list of his injuries: Possible cracked rib, scrapes and bruises, nothing that would badly impede mobility. Just a lot of discomfort. "Generally when I wake with this sort of hangover, it's been a lot more worth it."

"If we find Abby, it'll be worth it."

"Yeah." Becker studied the ground in all directions- hilly, rocky, dry. And very far away. "Is there a way down from here?"

"Eh... you mean without screaming and dying?" Connor glanced over the edge again, and shuddered. "Doubtful."

Becker studied the cliff face behind them. "Plenty of handholds. We could climb back up."

"Speak for yourself!" said Connor. "Suppose Winnie the Pooh's still up there?"

Becker frowned. He hated when Connor made a fair point. "Where's the EMD?"

Connor found their one remaining weapon on the ledge beside him and handed it over. Becker stood as best he could with all his joints on fire and backed up to the edge, facing the cliff with his back to the drop. He was still disoriented and pin-wheeled his arms for a moment before Connor jumped up and grabbed him by the shirt, helping to steady him.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to flush it out." Becker made sure he had his balance this time, aimed, and fired several shots up over the side of the cliff. Nothing stirred.

"Try again," Connor urged.

He fired two more shots- three- something dark and sleek swept into his field of fire, too late for him to change his aim. He winged it, and heard an echoing _squawk._

Connor frowned. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Becker lowered the weapon and stepped away from the edge. "Well, something. It'll only upset you."

"Oh, I don't like the sound of-"

A black shadow fell across the ledge. An impossible bird- bigger than any Becker had ever seen, a raptor in the classic sense- circled around the ledge. Becker watched the arc of its endless wings in fascination.

"_Aiolornis,_" Connor said. "The giant condor. Sixteen-foot wingspan, largest flying bird in-"

"Shut up, Connor," he murmured. "If you say it's _beautiful_, so help me, they'll find your bones at the bottom of this cliff and I'll tell Abby it was an accident."

"Don't look at me! You're the one who angered it! It wouldn't be hunting for something our size! Actually... even _with _provocation... it shouldn't go out of its way to..."

Becker saw where his friend's train of thought was headed. In nearly comical unison, they both turned their heads to inspect the rest of the ledge on which they'd landed. On the far end of it, tucked against the cliff so it was invisible from above, they saw a rough assemblage of brush and leaves, with three eggs tucked in the centre...

"Oh," said Connor. "Oh, this is bad..."

"Oh, do you think?" Becker turned; the giant condor was already upon them, sweeping in with its talons gleaming in the sun. "Look out!"

He knocked Connor to the ground, and the giant bird missed them by centimetres. It cackled angrily and wheeled around for another pass...

Becker sighted with the EMD. If he shot the bird in the air at this height, he'd probably kill it, which seemed like a shame- a parent defending its nest and all. On the other hand, Becker had always believed that in_ us verses them _survival situations, it was best to render _them _dead as efficiently as possible. That was the whole point of his training...

He pulled the trigger. The EMD sputtered and died; electric sparks run up and down its length, shocking Becker like tiny bolts of lightning. He dropped it with a curse.

"Um," said Connor. "Power pack must have ruptured in the fall. After a couple of shots-"

"Yes, I gathered as much, thanks!" Becker snapped. "Now what?"

Of course, Connor had no good answer for that. The giant condor, winging its way in for the kill, had no advice to offer. Which left Becker to his own devices, and somewhat at a loss, as the terrible bird drew near...

* * *

The team around her might have been different, but Jenny was more than familiar with the routine of her new-old job: Locate the anomaly, sweep in with a couple of team-mates and some backup personnel with locking devices, secure the site, and neutralise the incursion. Simple, direct, uncomplicated. She just couldn't believe she was actually doing it again. She was either mad, or... actually, she wasn't at all certain the _or_ was required.

She drew comfort from the steady, sure footsteps of Matt Anderson, beside her. She didn't know Matt well, but he radiated a sort of calm, steady presence that must have made him very good at this. Nick had been like that in a crisis- except during his moments of mad genius. Then he was unlike any other man Jenny had ever known. She missed those moments more than she liked to admit.

Nostalgia wasn't helping her mood; nor was the brooding presence of Christopher Newman on Matt's opposite side. He kept staring at her from the corner of his eye, as though he expected her to disappear from the timeline entirely. Jenny wouldn't have minded so much if she didn't fear the same thing.

_Concentrate_, Jenny told herself. _Get through this alive, and you can leave it behind for good. That's the main thing now._

She took a long breath of stale air and glanced around the Underground platform on which they found themselves. A red, white, and blue Central Line train sat a short distance away, and several bystanders stood on the platform, but so far she detected no sign of trouble.

"Jess, we're in position," Matt said into coms. "What have you got for us?"

A long moment passed, in which Jess did not reply. Matt repeated her name a couple of times, to no effect, and shared a worried look with Jenny. Apparently the problem wasn't with her coms; the ARC wasn't answering. Just when Matt seemed about to order a search, a burst of static in their earpieces nearly deafened them.

"Hello?" said a male voice. "Am I on? Hello?"

Jenny frowned. She thought she knew the voice... and yet, she didn't. Newman must have recognised it, because he tossed up his arms in frustration.

"Hello? Am I on? Can you hear me?"

Matt sighed. "We can hear you. Who is this?"

"Oh... erm... Duncan reporting. Computer geek, third class. Filling in for Jess, who's filling in for Connor. At your service."

Jenny frowned. She remembered Connor mentioning a Duncan; one of his old friends, she thought. But Jenny was nearly certain she'd never met the man.

_She's standing outside a middle-class flat with a portly, insecure young man, and she's angry. She's very worried about... something. And he's protesting:_

_"There's no law against capturing extinct animals."_

_"You stole government property. That makes it treason."_

Jenny blinked. She didn't know where she'd drifted in her mind for a second, but she'd heard those words as clearly as if they'd been spoken aloud: The first line by the voice on coms, the second line by... herself. She'd heard the words in her own voice. But she'd never had that conversation in her life!

Jenny put two and two together and groaned. _Not_ now,_ Claudia, dammit..._

Meanwhile, Matt continued his own conversation as though nothing had happened. "Yeah, I think we've met. You were... out of sorts."

"I'm much better now, thanks!" said the young man brightly. "Except for the vomiting..."

If Matt Anderson ever in his life considered quitting his job, walking away from the ARC, and getting a job as a shop clerk or a cab driver, Jenny thought that might have been the moment. But he showed admirable poise in keeping calm.

"It's all right, Duncan," he said. "Just... give me any data you've got on the anomaly."

"All right... yeah. Okay. I'm reading a blinking... anomaly thing, sort of... on a Central Line train about twenty metres to your left."

"Yeah, I see it. But I don't..." Whatever Matt was saying got drowned out by the scream, as a dozen people started pushing and shoving in a desperate effort to flee the nearest car. He shrugged. "Yeah. Got it. Never mind."

"Now, I haven't done this for a while," Jenny quipped. "Are we sure that's the right one?"

"_Pretty_ sure," said Duncan, too new to realise she was joking. "Sorry, who's this?"

"Jennifer Lewis-Miller. I'm a sort of new/old ARC employee." Since the opportunity had been presented, she decided to take a chance. "Have we met, Duncan?"

"Eh... nope, don't think so. You sound hot, though. Seriously, is every woman who works here really hot?"

"Makes up for the low salary," Matt muttered, and he led the way toward the train.

Jenny stood back, just for a moment, and soon she realised Newman was standing beside her. He touched her arm, frowning at her with concern that seemed alien to his weathered face.

"You all right?"

"Fine." Jenny shook off the old memory for good and all. "I'm fine."

"You know that fellow."

"Connor must have introduced us, maybe just for a second. He forgot and I barely remembered. That's all." Jenny bit her lip; that was certainly the rational explanation. The fact that she knew it wasn't true seemed incidental.

"Yeah," said Newman, playing along. "Maybe..."

Matt, meanwhile, was several steps ahead of them and focused on the train. He called back to his team. "Come on!"

The last few stragglers fell over each other escaping the train. And a final, non-paying customer descended onto the platform in their wake: a lizard-like quadruped, perhaps three metres long, two-hundred-plus kilograms, with snapping jaws and a prominent sail on its back that barely fit through the doors.

"Oh, that's beautiful," Newman breathed.

"_Dimetrodon_," said Matt. "Permian era predator, not quite a dinosaur and not quite a mammal. Fairly dangerous."

The creature, whatever it was, turned toward them and roared. Jenny felt a chill down her spine as all her nightmares came to life around her, but she stood her ground.

"I'm starting to remember why I hated this job..."

"Light it up," Matt said.

Jenny abruptly remembered she was armed, albeit with a strange weapon. The EMD's aim was strange to her; the weapon was almost _too_ lightweight, with no discernible kickback, and her once-superlative marksmanship had deteriorated in recent years. Still, she hit it several times, and Matt and Newman hit it several more. The creature collapsed before it ever got close to them.

Really too easy, by the standards of the ARC.

"Well done," said Matt, who approached the creature looking pleased. He turned to the soldiers behind them. "Lock the anomaly. We'll-"

"-debrief the civilians and meet you back here." Jenny blinked; she hadn't even meant to speak. Apparently some things came back a bit too easily. She deferred to Matt. "Sorry. Your team now."

Matt smiled. "Forget it. I'm starting to feel a bit superfluous, that's-"

He trailed off. Jenny followed his gaze to the opposite side of the train, where a flick of pseudo-reptilian tail was disappearing up through the street entrance.

_Of course,_ Jenny thought._ I did say_ too easy, _didn't I?_

"Oh, guys!" said Duncan, a beat too late. "I've been reconstructing some of the initial reports, and I think-"

"More than one came through?" Matt suggested. He muted his coms before growling, "Where the hell is Jess, anyway?"

"We've got it, Duncan," said Jenny diplomatically. "We're in pursuit..."

A few moments later, she found herself with Matt and Newman on the street above the station, which should have been packed with people at this hour of the afternoon. The fact that it was nearly empty seemed like an excellent indication the Dimetrodon had already been spotted. But the creature itself was not in evidence.

"Duncan," Matt said, "we could use some guidance. Haven't you got anything?"

"Uh... right. Okay. Looking at the reports as they come in- this is _so_ cool, by the way- I think you'll find it travelling west."

"That way," said Matt. He pointed down the street and took the lead once more.

Jenny followed, scanning every alley and shop window for some hint of an anachronistic lizard-mammal. She really wouldn't have expected it would be hard to find, but one thing she remembered about the ARC; these creatures never ran out of ways to surprise you.

She thought she saw a flicker of movement from a darkened alley, and turned to check it out. But it was just a stray cat, and she started to turn back-

"Oh, sorry," said Duncan's voice in her ear. "I meant the _other_ west."

"What...?" said Jenny. Even as she turned, she knew the warning was again too late-

The creature was right behind her. She tried to bring her EMD around, but it snapped at her and knocked the weapon away. It fell on her with claws and teeth, and Jenny opened her mouth to scream-

She wasn't sure what happened next until a moment after it was done happening. Newman pushed her out of the way, avoided the Dimetrodon's jaws, and wrestled it like an alligator. While it thrashed, he brought a gleaming knife up under its throat. A quick motion, and the beast collapsed...

And then it was over. The Dimetrodon was dead, Jenny was on the ground beside its carcass trying to remember how to breathe again, and Matt stood over them both, glowering. But he couldn't very well object to Newman's methods when he'd acted on instinct to save Jenny's life, and he knew it. Finally, he muttered something under his breath and turned back toward the station to retrieve their backup.

A hand wrapped around Jenny's and pulled her to her feet. Newman was staring at her in that uncomfortable way he had, like some important thought was on the tip of his tongue and he didn't know how to retrieve it. Jenny knew the feeling well.

"Thank you," she said.

He shook his head and followed Matt without a word. Whatever the thought had been, it was long gone, and Jenny couldn't help feeling she would have liked to hear it...


	12. 604 Act Five

**Primeval 6.4 **("I, Claudia")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Five**

"That was a good idea you had."

Exhausted and in pain, huddled against the cliff face at the back of the ledge, between Connor Temple and a prehistoric nest, Becker closed his eyes and tried to pretend the world still made some kind of sense.

"What, throwing rocks at the bird?" he said. "I didn't invent that strategy. Though, at least, I did hit it a few times..."

"I hit it!" Connor protested. "Once!"

Becker massaged his throbbing scalp. "Yes, your rock rebounded off the bird's beak and struck me in the head. Thank you for that."

Connor shrugged. Physically, he was doing no better than Becker- probably quite a bit worse. But whatever it was that had taken hold of him since he realized what his time machine was capable of doing- what it had done to Abby- animated him with a desperate energy that made him, for once, the more driven of the two. He hauled himself to his feet and studied the terrain above and below them.

"We have to get out of here," he said. "We've frightened it, but it won't abandon its nest for long."

Becker sighed. "On the other hand, if it returns while we're in the middle of a climb, we're sitting ducks."

"If you've got another idea-"

"I already said I don't!" Becker snapped. He peered at the eggs. "Well, except the one..."

"No," Connor said. "No, we can't. The timeline-"

"Is in ever more danger, the longer we stay here. All I'm saying is, that's a long drop. And if something were to happen to the eggs, it would have nothing to protect."

Connor glanced over the side and winced, perhaps picturing the world's biggest omelet. "Or suppose that makes it _really _cross and it kills us."

"Is that possible? I mean, it's not a bird detective. Would it really know who to blame?"

Connor shrugged. "Abby could tell you. She's always telling me not to underestimate creatures. For that matter, she's always telling me not to get too impressed with my latest gadgets. Really wish I'd listened..."

He collapsed beside Becker, sullen and angry with himself. He dug into his pocket and came up holding a bit of metal- the thing he'd found at the base of the mountain, which Becker now realized was in the shape of a ring.

"So that's it."

Connor tucked the ring back into his pocket as though he thought he could rewind time- which technically he could, but not in this context. He looked away, more annoyed than ever.

Becker smiled. "When did it happen?"

"Southfield, last month," Connor sighed at length. "We thought we were going to die, we had the reverend at hand, and..."

"Sure," Becker said. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Connor shook his head. "Didn't want to ruin the ceremony, you know? People have been waiting so long for us to finally get married, plans had been made. It didn't seem fair."

"You realise it's not about them?" Becker looked off into the distance. "Ask me, you did the smart thing. Last thing I'd want is a fuss. I was never very good with... you know, public displays. Or private ones. At least the person you care about knows how you feel. You're lucky."

He trailed off, and when he returned to the present, Connor was grinning impishly at him. Becker made a face. "What?"

"You're thinking about Jess."

"Shut up."

Connor clasped him on the shoulder. "I've been there, mate. Thinking of all you should have said. When Abby and I first met, I couldn't even-"

Unable to abide hearing the story for the thirtieth time, Becker interrupted, "It's a little more complicated than you and Abby, I think."

"Why's that, then? Jess is a lovely girl. You're... tough and soldier-y. Some women like that." Becker glared at Connor, but the other was only joking. Then he sobered. "She likes you. It doesn't have to be more complicated than that. Unless... I noticed you got really quiet when I asked about Matt's double. He has appeared to you, hasn't he?"

Becker stared at him, surprised Connor was perceptive enough to pick up on that. He supposed he shouldn't have been; his friend had always been brilliant. He simply preferred not to focus, most of the time. If this was going to be the new status quo, Connor paying attention and _noticing _things, Becker wasn't sure he liked that at all. He was so taken aback, he didn't know what to say.

Connor laughed. "Oh, mate, trust me. Never take well-meant romantic advice from a friend from the future. Worst day ever! Ignore the time-traveller, follow the heart. Always."

Becker scoffed. "What possible good is that advice? I mean, you can't... know, can you?"

"I _knew_," Connor said. "And so do you."

The moment stretched out until Becker was afraid they might start bonding or... _hug_ or something! Aghast at the thought, he waved off Connor's words.

"Friend from the future. You are so making that up!"

Connor shrugged. "Probably. You're right, yeah. Must be. 'Course, that doesn't explain how I know about the woman you met in Glasgow..."

"The woman in...?" Becker stopped short. Connor was well-known to hack the ARC's personnel files on occasion (at least, he had done before Jess instituted her new security protocols, which were baffling even to Connor). But that very personal incident wasn't in his file, or anywhere on his record. And Becker never talked about it... to _anyone._ "Why would I ever tell you that?"

"Don't know. Maybe you'll find out someday." Connor thumped him on the back and stood, started figuring the best way back up the cliff. "Now, come on. We can't wait any longer. It's time to find Abby and bring her home..."

Becker didn't dispute that point; but he still stared at the other man, astonished. If Connor was just playing a joke, it was an odd time for it. If he was serious, what did that mean? Was Becker destined to go back to the past someday? Was the damned time machine going to keep malfunctioning, scattering them across eternity time and again? That would be just like one of Connor's inventions. But Connor didn't seem concerned; he seemed amused, like he knew the punchline to a joke...

"Becker!" Connor said. "Come on, I need a boost..."

"Right!" Becker said, and stood. Suddenly he had energy to spare; he had additional incentive now. There was something he very much wanted to live to see.

_Or someone_. The woman in Glasgow wasn't the only secret Becker had never shared with his friends at the ARC; there was one other, about an idea someone once had. An idea that never worked out; an idea that ended very badly. But they were dealing with time travel, so perhaps the idea wasn't bad after all. Perhaps it was simply ahead of its time. If so...

_Don't get ahead of yourself. Focus. If you want the future to happen, you have to survive. Besides, whatever Connor's talking about might not happen for months or years. Stay on-mission._

_But we're not done with this_, Becker thought, with a grin he kept carefully hidden from Connor. _Oh, no, we're not done by a long shot..._

* * *

Matt returned to the ARC with Jenny and Newman in tow, to find James Lester standing over the Hub, fuming at an awkward young man: Connor's friend Duncan, whose presence wouldn't have been so objectionable if he hadn't nearly gotten Jenny killed. Matt intended to have a serious conversation with Jess about that- assuming anyone knew where she was.

"Look, just-" Lester hissed at her replacement, "I don't care what you do, just get it working again!"

"I'm doing my best!" Duncan protested. "Do you micromanage Miss Parker like this?"

"Miss Parker doesn't spill energy drinks on the keyboard!"

Matt shook his head. "Don't be too hard on the kid, Lester. We're still alive."

"So you are." Lester managed to make that sound regrettable in Matt's case, but then he turned to Jenny. "Enjoy your return to action?"

Jenny shrugged. "You know how you sometimes think something is quite annoying, but when it's gone from your life, you find that you miss it?"

"Yeah?" said Duncan.

"Well, fighting dinosaurs is nothing like that. At_ all_."

"Nevertheless," said Lester, "well done."

Jenny shrugged; she wasn't thrilled to be here, and Matt didn't blame her. She kept glancing at Newman, as though she wanted to talk to him about his unexpected save, but didn't know what to say. Matt wasn't sure what to make of that, either.

It wasn't that he thought Newman incapable of taking heroic action- his file was a profile in bravery, however brutal, and anyone who's brave in a crisis is a potential hero. Further, he _did _fulfill his contracts, in a rough kind of way. He seemed to be nominally working for the ARC.

Still... somehow Matt doubted his new team-mate would have been so fast or decisive if that Dimetrodon had been attacking him instead of Jenny. It could have been a sort of chivalry thing; Newman was a bit of a dinosaur himself, and Jenny certainly made an attractive damsel. It could have meant he knew how important she was, and felt compelled to protect her.

But neither of those explanations completely satisfied Matt. It was more like Newman _knew_ her, like he was acting on instinct to save someone he cared about. If that was the case...

Well, that was potentially very dangerous. But it was another day's problem; even as he filed it away, Jess came through the control centre doors at a barely-controlled run.

"Guys, I've got it! Well, actually Connor got it and Duncan pointed me in the right direction, but I like to think it took someone _really_ clever to put it all together! Of course, it's all just theory, but I think I've almost certainly got _something_, even if it's not-"

Newman cleared his throat. "You're babbling, you know."

"Yes, I know. I do that when I'm excited."

Newman smiled and turned away, reacting to Jess's enthusiasm just as her less surly team-mates would have done, while she pressed on: "I've worked out how to communicate with the team. At least, I think I have. The good news is, the work's mostly done. Connor's machine already sends a tremendous surge of energy along the network of anomalies, even in passive scanning, so all we have to do is piggyback the signal. The bad news is, there'll be a great deal of interference. We'll have to modify the coms devices to compensate, and that means-"

"Connor and Becker have the old coms and won't be able to hear us," Lester sighed. Matt was impressed he'd managed to follow all that. "Of course. Lovely."

Matt saw his chance. "We send me back. You communicate with me, I communicate with them."

"No." Lester shook his head. "For the last time, I don't want you near this."

"Actually, James..." Jess cleared her throat. "I think Matt's right. We'll have to send him."

Lester arched an eyebrow. "As soon as your promotion comes through and you are appointed my superior, that will be your call to make. Until then..."

"The thing is, I ran another search with Connor's database program. The past has changed again. Two bodies are no longer found at the La Brea site." Before anyone could breathe a sigh of relief, Jess continued, "But four are found nearby."

Matt exchange a look with Lester. The ARC's director rolled his eyes, but they were down to their last play, and he knew it. After more than a year of delays and preparation, Matt would have the chance to go back. So it seemed a bad time to realise what a mad idea it truly was...

* * *

Connor Temple had always enjoyed clever banter- it was what set _The Empire Strikes Back_ apart from the prequels. Banter had made Joss Whedon his hero, ever since _Buffy_. Once he'd started having adventures himself, Connor had made it a point to engage in banter whenever possible- with Abby, with Becker, sometimes just for the sake of hearing himself talk.

But when he'd told Becker he had absolutely no talent for anything athletic or co-ordinated, that wasn't banter. Sadly, that was the sane and simple truth. So it was sort of discouraging that his continued survival depended on scrambling up a cliff face without a rope, quickly and competently. Even with a boost from Becker, it wasn't exactly going as planned. In fact, they were stepping all over each other:

"Steady! Steady! Look, just get me-"

"All right, take care and just reach for the-"

"I'm trying, but I can't get a-"

"Ow! Connor, you're standing on my-"

"Here now, give us a moment!"

"Careful! Connor, watch out!"

On perhaps the fourteenth try, Connor finally snagged a handhold secure enough for Becker to let go. He glanced backward with a grin. "You were right. Nothing to it. Race you to the top!"

Becker groaned as he checked to see if his nose was still attached. "Don't race! And whatever you do, don't look down!"

Since Connor had to look down to deliver his quip, the advice came a bit late. The world was already spinning. He shut his eyes tight and tried to breathe. Becker spat on his hands, took a deep breath, and started scaling the cliff himself. It took him an embarrassingly short time to catch Connor up and pass him. Connor was just hoping he'd meet some small delay- nothing dangerous, maybe a missed handhold that would allow Connor to make up ground- when he heard something in the distance: The more-than-usually-outraged cry of _Aiolornis_.

_I have_ got _to stop wishing for things that tempt fate_, Connor thought, as he reached desperately for the next handhold. The condor screeched again, already much closer. Connor didn't dare look back.

"We're not gonna make it," he said to Becker. "What now?"

"_Now _we race. Go! Go!"

The urgency in his voice was sincere, but it wasn't helping Connor's anxiety or his co-ordination. Accelerating his pace only slowed him down. If the condor attacked him now, he was dead...

As it turned out, it went for Becker first, swooping past with a snatch of talons that barely missed the security captain and left him hanging off the cliff by his fingernails-

"Becker!"

"Don't worry about me! Keep moving!"

Connor knew he couldn't do anything for his friend until he was secure himself, and that thought galvanised him as fear alone had not. He scrambled up the cliff faster than he would have imagined possible; in moments, he was not only past Becker, but groping blindly for the top of the ledge. He scraped it with his fingers, but the condor screamed again, startling him, and he nearly lost his balance. He risked a glance over his shoulder-

_Aiolornis_ was aiming for him now, only a few metres away and coming in fast. There was no time to avoid it. Connor winced; it was the bird or the fall now, but one way or another, it seemed a good time for his life to pass before his eyes...

The part, for example, where he'd told Abby he loved her for the first time, while she hung off a cliff very like this one. Connor saw the moment so clearly, almost like it was happening again. The only thing he didn't understand was why their roles were reversed.

A beat later, he realised it was _actually happening again_. Two hands locked around his wrists as he lost his grip; Abby and Emily together hauled him toward the top of the ledge. With her free hand, Emily fired several wild EMD bolts, just enough to make the condor circle around...

"Got you!" Abby hissed. "Connor, keep climbing! You've got to help us!"

"Abby! Where'd you get the EMD? And... why's Emily wearing a man's shirt?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Haven't remarked on what I'm wearing _once_ in the last five years, but that you notice? _Now_?"

"Oh, please, I've noticed everything you've ever worn. Especially the blue dress at the wedding. Did I ever tell you it set off your eyes?"

"You did not, and that's lovely. But it doesn't make you less heavy, so really: Keep climbing!"

"Right," Connor said, breathing heavily as he tried to land his feet on something solid. "Does it seem to you we do this a bit too often?"

Emily laughed. "Just pretend you're Lando Calrissian, hanging over the Sarlacc pit."

"Emily," he said, "time and a place. _Not_ while I'm hanging off a mountain!"

"Only trying to help..." Emily peered over the side. "Becker, are you there? Do you need anything?"

"Haven't got a big bowl of birdseed?" Becker's distant voice suggested. "I'm fine! Help Connor!"

Abby and Emily dug in and heaved a final time, dragging Connor up far enough for him to get a leg up over the ledge and pull himself onto solid ground. He lay panting for air, as the condor came screaming in a final time and Abby threw herself on top of him. It missed her by centimetres, and Emily lined up a clear shot as it passed. Multiple EMD bolts sent it crashing to a halt near the mouth of cave they'd escaped earlier.

Connor exhaled, even as Abby looked up; her blue eyes glistened with tears, either from joy or from the ordeal she'd just suffered.

"So... hello there," Connor said.

"Hi."

"I think we survived."

"'Course we did," Abby said. Then, as if by sudden impulse, she hugged him fiercely and whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Um... thanks?"

Just when he was starting to suspect there was something more to Abby's attitude than simple relief, they found more urgent things to worry about: Becker, grunting and straining as he made it to the top. Between the two of them and Emily, they managed to help the much bigger man to safety. They all collapsed in a rough circle and started laughing. Then Becker frowned at Emily.

"Why are you wearing a man's shirt?" he asked, which only made her laugh harder.

After a moment, she seemed to realise something was missing from their pleasant reunion, and sobered. "Where's Matt?"

Connor looked away. Whatever came next, it was clear they all had some very long stories to share...

* * *

Some distance away, beside a stream in a too-familiar valley, a golden glow dissolved into yet another time-traveller. Despite all his experience, he looked around in the same stunned silence as everyone else. Matt had never been able to dispel the wonder of that moment, and wasn't sure he wanted to.

Of course, sooner or later, duty called. He activated his coms and winced as his ears filled with static.

"This is Matt Anderson, calling Becker and Connor Temple. Can you hear me?" Static. "It's really important, guys. Come on..."

A long, terrifying moment, and then the static dissolved into Becker's voice. "-hear you, Matt. Emily was just wondering what took so long."

_She's all right._ Matt felt the ice in the pit of his stomach finally dissolve, but there was no time for that, either. "Long story. We're standing ready to bring you home, but I have two bits of bad news. Firstly, you're all dead."

"That's... _really_ bad news, isn't it?" said Connor's voice.

"It's a bit awkward," Matt conceded. "Seems your remains were found among those of a prehistoric hunting group."

The rescuers must have distributed their spare coms, because Emily chimed in. "I knew you shouldn't have kicked their leader in the throat!"

"Sorry," said Abby's voice, "but it really is the best place to kick people!"

"That's not easy for her to admit," Connor said. "It's sort of a sore point- pun not intended. I'm proud of you, darlin'."

Matt sighed. There was camaraderie, and then there was wasting time in a still-deadly situation. "Yeah, well, I think I can talk you past the area. Follow my voice."

"What's the other bit of bad news?" Becker asked.

Or that was what Matt thought he said- it coincided with a more strident, more annoying voice nattering in his other ear. "Hang on, I'm getting that now... Connor, your friend Duncan says hello."

"Duncan! You used the Geek List!"

"He also says this time machine of yours uses a lot of power- more than your design led him to expect. They might not be able to pull five targets back without it failing."

"Well, _I'm_ not volunteering to stay behind..." said Emily.

"What happens if it fails?" said Abby.

Matt expected the answer from Duncan, but it was Connor's voice that answered: "Getting us back through the network of anomalies should be easy, it's the stitching-up part. Basically, it'll get us back to our own time, but could deposit us anywhere between here and London."

"Including the middle of the ocean?" Emily asked.

"Uh... yup. Theoretically. Prototypes..."

"Couldn't we go by turns?" Becker suggested. "Three and two, or something?"

"Even more dangerous," said Connor. "Until it's stabilised, we really need to limit the number of trips. I think we'll have to take our chances..."

"Look, it'll be fine," Matt said. "Worry about that _after_ we ensure you live that long. Head due east for half a kilometre- hopefully you can flank the burial site."

"Right," said Becker...

* * *

"...you heard the man. Let's get moving."

One by one, the weary time travellers picked themselves off the ground for the final leg of their journey. Becker was first in line now; Connor had lost the manic edge that drove him to find Abby, and she clung to him as though she'd thought they'd never meet again. Even Emily, who might have been expected to be energised at the prospect of seeing Matt, dragged her heels. Becker helped her to her feet, and she barely seemed to notice him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Why would they bury us?" When no one understood, Emily added, "I was thinking about that film we saw- Connor, the documentary, you remember? It said the original La Brea Woman was probably left in the tar as a kind of burial..."

"Yeah," Connor said. "So?"

"We didn't exactly make friends with those hunters. One had the sense nothing they were planning to do was... particularly well-mannered." Emily shrugged. "Why go out of their way to give us a proper burial?"

Abby stopped short. "That's a really good question, actually."

"They must have done it, though," Becker said. "Who else would it have been?"

"Even better question," said Abby. "I think it's time we told you what we've been dealing with..."

As quickly as possible, the two women sketched in the story of their mysterious pursuer, his intimation of powerful friends, and Abby's fear they were planning to ambush the team. This had the happy consequence of explaining Emily's shirt (though not, Becker noticed, the EMD) and the unhappy consequence of complicating their lives:

"The thing is, I'm almost sure I've seen the man before," Abby said. "I recognised his silly hat."

"His _what_?" Becker said.

"He had a hat. One of those with one side of the brim pinned up. You know, a slouch hat."

"About this tall?" Connor said, marking off a line well above his head, at Becker's level. "Scottish accent, ginger?"

When the women both nodded, Becker swore heartily. "_Newman_. That son of a-"

"Who's Newman?" said Emily.

"Our new friend," Connor explained. "The one who sabotaged the menagerie. He was brought in by Lester, but we don't really trust him."

"He's a snake," Becker said, more succinctly. "He tried to prevent us coming back for you. Connor had to threaten to destroy the world."

"You did _what_?" Abby said, staring at him.

"Not the world, the timeline." Connor kicked at the ground. "So, the Universe, actually..."

Emily arched an eyebrow. "That's either the most romantic thing I've ever heard, or the most frightening."

"That's time for you," Connor agreed. "I can do a lot of frightening, romantic things now. Cutter was right; we never should have started this..."

Abby hugged his arm. "Cutter didn't know what we'd be dealing with. You've got to stop being what he wanted. We both do."

Connor frowned at her, apparently scandalised. Even Becker was surprised, but before he could cipher it out, Matt's voice crackled through his coms.

"Er, I don't mean to worry you, but-"

"We know," Becker sighed. "We're coming. You've got to hear this, though. Leave your coms on."

"Sorry, can't do that," Matt said. "I'm not exactly alone here. Keep moving east, stay out of sight as much as possible; I'll contact you when I can."

"Wait, what does that mean?" Emily said. "Matt, wait a moment! Matt!"

But he disconnected his coms and left them with static.

* * *

Matt hid behind a rock on the far side of the stream, hoping no eager predator would appear to dislodge him from his hiding place. He was watching half a dozen newcomers in dark, pseudo-military uniforms spread out across the valley. Matt didn't recognise their weapons, but they looked a good deal meaner than EMD's. The leader of the detail was a tall, strong fellow with olive skin and Latin features, who barked orders to the others in English, with an American accent.

_That's not an American military uniform, though... he might be as American as Southfield is British. How far does their reach extend?_

When the others had spread out, the leader summoned one of his subordinates. "You're sure this is the place?"

"Yes, sir," said the other man, whose accent was more like Matt's own. "At least, it's Newman's last reported position. But that was days ago; he might be dead by now."

"If he's not, he soon will be." The leader hissed. "We know Abby Maitland was here, maybe some of the others. If we lose them because that son of a bitch went rogue..."

"The Director said we could rely on Newman."

"So he did," said the leader. "Bureaucrats and politicians..."

The subordinate shrugged. "If he is AWL, he picked a good hiding place. A whole prehistoric world- with anomaly-tracking technology, he could run forever."

"No," said the leader. "Not forever, Sergeant. A long time... but not forever."

Matt would have liked to hear more- unfortunately, his attention was distracted by the bolt being pulled back on a weapon just behind his left ear. Matt turned slowly to find himself facing down a uniformed man ten years younger than himself, in the same kind of dark uniform.

"Hold there," said the kid, in an accent that might have been German or Austrian- which didn't help Matt's concerns about their enemy's reach.

The young soldier reached for a radio on his belt. If he used it, Matt knew he was finished. So he did the only thing he could. He tackled the kid and prayed he'd freeze too long to get off a shot. His finger tightened on the trigger-

A moment too slow. Matt knocked the barrel aside, slammed into him, and knocked him cold with two blows. Then he took his gun and radio and dragged him further back into the rocks, where hopefully his friends wouldn't find him for a while...

He thought he'd made too much noise, because the team leader on the other side of the stream turned and looked directly at him... but then he shrugged and turned away.

Matt exhaled and backed away. Whether these strangers represented the past or the future, he'd seen enough of them in the present. He had to link up with the team and get them out- fast.

Matt looked down at the gun in one hand and the radio in the other. One offered a way home. He'd always heard words were more powerful than violence; here, perhaps was the proof...

* * *

Back at the ARC, Jennifer Lewis-Miller listened in horror along with everybody else as Matt's coms went out- and then returned in a squeal of feedback.

"Jess, can you hear me?" said Matt's filtered voice.

"I've got you, Matt," she said. "What's your situation?"

"It's... complicated. Look, we've got company here. I've obtained one of their radios. I think I can use your adapted coms to flood them with feedback, knock out their communications. That should give us the edge we need to get past them- but once I've removed your modifications, I won't be able to talk to the future. So you'll have to stand ready to retrieve us from the valley. I mean in a _moment_."

"Understood," Jess said, with a concerned glance at Lester. "And don't worry about the power- we're going to manage it from here. We'll get you home, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Matt said, and then his signal dissolved to a squeal once again.

Jenny took a deep breath. Perhaps the only thing she was looking forward to from this whole experience was seeing her old friends again. She didn't want the 'privilege' of arriving just in time for their end.

She felt a presence at her shoulder: Newman, who frowned at the Hub as Jess and Duncan manipulated the power, but not the way everyone else was frowning. Not with life-and-death concern. Jenny wanted to hate him for that.

Perhaps Newman noticed her attitude, for he shrugged. "Don't worry. They'll get away."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Tactical analysis," he said, in a deadpan voice that suggested dry humour.

Jenny didn't get the joke, but she did take the opportunity to bring up another subject. "I never thanked you properly. You were quite fearless in saving me. I've never seen anything like it. Well... not for a long time."

Newman grimaced; somehow that was exactly the wrong thing to say, though Jenny didn't know why. "It was nothing. You're nothing to me. You're not anyone at all."

He walked away, leaving Jenny so astonished that she nearly didn't hear the end of his sentence:

"The trouble is, neither am I..."

* * *

Matt waited in the hills overlooking the valley, trying to keep an eye on all directions at once. The ominous soldiers had all dispersed and had not yet located their colleague, but they had to be combing the area. All Matt could do was stay in touch with the team and hope he could find a safe approach.

"Becker, this is Matt. What's your status? Becker?"

A screech of feedback was his only response. He'd been giving the team directions, but as they closed in on the coms jamming he'd used to confuse their enemies, their own communication became hit-and-miss. Matt had to hope he knew his team better than the unnamed American knew his. Generally speaking, that was a decent bet. But the team had been so on edge lately, so mistrustful of each other...

_Come on. If you followed my directions, you ought to be here at any moment. Prove me right, for everyone's sake..._

_There._ Across the valley, a flash of movement. Dark clothing hidden behind the rocks. At first Matt feared it was a soldier, and so it was: a moment later, he saw a hand signal from Becker. He sank behind the rocks with a relieved grin. Then he signalled Becker to move down into the valley as quickly as possible. He turned to join them-

"Hey!" said a voice behind him. Matt turned to see the American soldier closing on him with weapon drawn. He threw himself flat as multiple bullets flew over his head. Then he picked himself up and ran for the valley in a zigzag pattern, trusting the natural obstacles to keep him safe. Even so, several bullets _pinged _uncomfortably near.

_Come on, Jess. We should nearly be in the target area... turn the bloody thing on!_

A bullet kicked up dust at Matt's feet as he barrelled downhill. He pushed himself harder. _Why do we always do these things the hard way?_

* * *

"Why do they always do things the hard way?" James Lester asked.

If he was talking to anyone, it was to Jess, but she was intent on controlling Connor's time machine, via the Hub.

"The team's appeared on the perimeter! I've got them!" Jess said. "And... also some other people. Not ours. Lots of modern power signatures."

"They're hostile," said Newman, who continued to skulk at the edges of the conversation. "The team won't last long with them- get them out of there."

"There's only four," Duncan said. "Got to get 'em all at once. If we try this and it blows up or something..."

"I know!" Jess said. "Matt still hasn't linked with the team. We don't have him yet..."

"Four's better than nothing, isn't it?" Newman growled. "You should activate now."

"And sacrifice Matt?" Jenny demanded. "James, you can't...!"

Lester held up both hands: _Not now_. He leaned over Jess's shoulder. "Give him as long as you can. But if you _must_ do it..."

"Another moment! Please!"

Jenny watched the blips on the screen. "They're closing in on the others."

"In your own time, Jess," Lester breathed.

"Come on, Matt," Jess murmured. Her fingers hovered over the controls. "Come _on_..."

"_Jess_!"

A heartbeat passed. Two. Jenny remembered why she used to insist this job took ten years off her life expectancy. Suddenly, Jess looked up.

"Five targets! I've got them!"

"Do it!" Lester snapped.

Jess's fingers flew on the Hub...

* * *

Becker and the others waited in a knot in the centre of the valley. Matt was down the slope and racing toward the stream. If he could get just a few more steps, they should all be in range. If Jess did her job- and Jess always did her job- they'd be home-free.

The others were shouting at Matt, calling his name, urging him on as he splashed across the stream. _Any moment... come on, Jess... come on!_

He could see Emily. She was smiling at him, beckoning him. Matt focused on her to the exclusion of all else, just trying to get to her before it was too late. Then something moved behind her...

It was the sergeant, the British fellow who'd been conversing with the leader. He'd gone in the other direction when the new arrivals split up; now he stood behind the team, aiming his weapon past Emily's shoulder, directly at Matt.

Then something changed; maybe he saw the horror on Matt's face. Whatever it was, the muzzle of his weapon shifted and he aimed at Emily. Matt opened his mouth to shout a warning, but he was running full-out. He could hardly breathe, there was no time-

Emily beamed at him. The man behind her pulled the trigger. Matt shouted something wordless and furious and terrified-

The world shimmered gold. His heartbeat stopped for a fraction of a moment as time disappeared. And then he was shouting in the middle of a modern street.

He was in a city, standing on the pavement! Emily stood before him, unharmed. She was all right. She was laughing. They must have disappeared as the sergeant fired; the bullet never reached her. Matt fell into her arms and hugged her.

"We made it!" Abby said. Actually, everyone said that, but Abby's voice came through to Matt's pounding ears the clearest. "I don't believe we made it..."

"Well," Connor said doubtfully, "not all the way..."

He pointed past the buildings, past the skyline, to the green hills beyond the city, where large white block letters said: **HOLLYWOOD.**

Becker laughed. "Some machine you built, Temple! We barely moved in space at all!"

"It did the hard part!" Connor protested. "All those targets must have blown the circuitry. At least we're not in the ocean!"

A young man with a scraggly beard and a blond ponytail came walking through their midst. He glanced at Matt, who froze.

"Er... hello. I know it must be really confusing, us just... popping in like this. We can explain..."

"Dude," the other man shrugged, "this is LA."

He left them without a backward glance. Matt turned to the others and finally joined in the laughter.

Meanwhile, Connor and Abby stand at each other. Abby took both his hands in hers. "Threatened the whole world, did you?"

"Well... I... " Connor looked embarrassed. "Wasn't much of a world without you..."

Abby kissed him, while the others pretended not to look. Then she drew back. "I have to tell you something. I lost the... you know. The thing."

"Yup, it's under control." Connor dug into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. Abby beamed. "I'm glad, actually. Now I get to do this properly, while I ask you a question."

"I think I answered the question. I think I asked it."

Matt turned to the others. "Wait, are they _married_ already?"

"Sort of," Becker said.

"You're not really surprised, are you?" said Emily.

"It's my team." Matt tossed up his hands. "No one tells me anything..."

Connor put the ring on Abby's finger, just as though they didn't have an audience. "I've been meaning to ask you this question since the day we met, and I nearly missed my chance, so here goes: Do you want to run away together?"

Abby frowned. "What, the Cretaceous doesn't count?"

"I meant somewhere with a beach. On purpose. You and me. The sort of thing we never make time to do. And look, here we are, across the ocean. If I remember my classic rock, there are lovely beaches just over that way. What do you say?"

"Connor, I don't know." Abby looked at the others, as though asking their opinion. "I mean, I'd love to. I'd really... you have_ no idea_ how much I'd like to say yes. But we learned a lot, back there. There's something coming..."

"Yeah, I know," Connor said. "I've accounted for that. It won't be here for a couple of months, and with our luck, it'll be really bad. So I thought... why not get the honeymoon in? Just in case?"

The second time Abby looked in his direction, Matt shrugged. "It's all right with me. We've got... way too much extra help, actually."

"I don't think... I wish... I don't know."

"Abby," said Emily quietly, "you should. You're exhausted, both of you. You haven't had a break in six years... and we're going to need you at the top of your game, really soon. As a friend, I think you should go."

Something passed between them that Matt couldn't quite interpret; the bond forged by two people who'd been through hell together. Someday he'd have to ask them what had happened back there.

Abby said, "Wouldn't know anyone who could look after Rex for me, would you?"

That seemed to please Emily. "As a matter of fact..."

Abby held her ring up to the light, then smiled at Connor and took his hand. "Why don't the rest of you go on without us? We'll catch you up."

"Yeah, we will," Connor said. "Eventually."

Grinning like a couple of kids, they walked off into the Pacific sun. Matt thought,_ If only everything else could get sorted out so easily..._

With a great sigh of exhaustion, he turned to the others. "We're going to need a flight home.".

"Oh, excellent!" said Emily. "I've never been in an air carriage!"

"Air_plane_," said Becker.

"What did _I_ say?"

Matt just shook his head. Feeling better than he had in some time, he slung one arm around her and the other around Becker, and they set off on the journey home.

**THE END**

_...of this story. Three more stories remain in the sixth series. Next up, a giant shark and the return of Danny Quinn disrupt Connor and Abby's honeymoon in _

**Primeval 6.5: The Fall of Angels**

_Coming soon!_


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